


A Very Special Guest

by MongooseToeBeans



Series: A Very Special Guest [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Episode: s01e07 Sorbet, First Dates, First Kiss, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Jealous Will Graham, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Season/Series 01, Secret Relationship, Top Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham, Will Graham Has Encephalitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MongooseToeBeans/pseuds/MongooseToeBeans
Summary: Season 1 AU in which Will stays for Hannibal’s dinner party after bringing the bottle of wine at the end of 1X07 Sorbet. Embarrassed and Sassy Will Graham meets Smitten Hannibal Lecter.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: A Very Special Guest [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098410
Comments: 272
Kudos: 1093





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been a reader of Hannigram for a long time, but this my first ever fic I’ve written in any fandom! Got a little longer than I intended, but I couldn’t help myself as I love a good slow burn and love trying to write Sassy Will and Smitten Hannibal. Please leave me your thoughts in the comments!

Will felt his blush take a seemingly permanent residence on his cheeks for the duration of the conversation. He held the wine bottle awkwardly, as if he didn’t know how it got to be in his hands.  


“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Hannibal asked, finally granting Will a look after moving about the kitchen gracefully.  


Will thought of how Hannibal had looked the previous night in the back of the ambulance, performing hasty surgery on the kidney-transplant-gone-wrong with his sleeves rolled up and the same calm demeanor he had on now as he cooked for the dinner party. This observation made him nervous. Then, Will thought of how Hannibal had looked up at him with his hands inside the man’s gut, and how it felt as if Will was seeing something he shouldn’t have. That did more than make him nervous, and he couldn’t quite figure out why.  


“Uh, I don’t think I would be good company,” Will replied honestly. He imagined trying to make small talk with Hannibal’s friends about art and music that he could hardly feign interest in and tried to hide his disappointment that he hadn’t found Hannibal alone.  


Hannibal waited a second as Will’s eyes darted around avoiding his, and when they met replied, “I disagree.”  


When Will failed to stifle a look of confusion with a hint of hope, Hannibal decided it might be worth it to push Will a little more. After momentary contemplation, “I would be most pleased to have you join the party as my special guest.”  


As if it was even possible, Will’s cheeks darkened and he wondered whether or not he had imagined the slight catch in Hannibal’s voice on the word “special.” Will instinctively hid his deepened blush with his hand as he reached up to adjust his glasses.  


“As much as I’d like to join if it was just you,” Will said with a slight smile, “I’m actually quite sure I’ll be bad company. In fact, I’ll probably just embarrass you in front of your friends so much that they won’t let you in the opera, or the museum, or the, uh, psychiatry… socials… anymore…”  


Will’s deflection did little to curb his embarrassment, as he didn’t end up sounding nearly as confidently sarcastic as he intended to. His dissatisfaction with how this argument went was doubled when he saw the cheeky grin Hannibal was barely withholding.  


Hannibal washed his hands and wiped them off on the kitchen towel, only allowing his lips to crack into a smile when he turned away from Will to disrobe himself of his apron. He turned back towards -Will before he responded.  


“I have great faith in your conversational skills, Will, and regardless of what scandals you intend to involve me in, your company would provide a pleasurable distraction should the conversation with my normal guests progress to tedium.”  
With this response, Will no longer felt that he was being given a choice. He allowed Hannibal to receive the bottle of wine from his hands and wordlessly followed him into the living room.  


“Thank you for the gift, Will. I should like to join you in partaking in a moment as I finish giving my staff a few instructions, if you’ll excuse me,” Hannibal placed the bottle down on the coffee table between two green velvet chairs and gestured for Will to take his seat.  


“Please,” Will nodded his head toward the taller man, who then gave a quick nod and returned towards the kitchen.  


Will took a moment to take in the decor of Hannibal’s grand living room. The floors were an impeccable marble, and the walls in this one room displayed art that would be surely worth more than Will’s house. These details Will quickly absorbed, but he dwelled on the antlers on the table behind the couch. He gulped as he remembered the stag that had been haunting him, asleep or not, lately. But, before Will could let fear possess him too completely, relief in the form of Hannibal returned, bearing two wine glasses.  


“The rest of my guests are not meant to arrive for another half hour, so perhaps I can help ready you for this undertaking with some suggestions for small talk,” Hannibal said as he took his place next to Will in the other velvet chair after pouring them each a glass.  


Will huffed out a laugh. “Was that a joke, Dr. Lecter?”  


“I believe it was. Though of course if you choose to take it seriously, I’m always willing to be of assistance to you.”  


Chuckling, Will tried not to laugh excessively by taking a sip of his wine. “I thought you had faith in my excellent conversational skills?”  


Hannibal couldn’t resist taking the opportunity when Will’s eyes were downcast towards his glass to observe him. The blush on Will’s cheeks was less of a furious red color now, but had softened to a happier pink, and Hannibal couldn’t help the thought that slipped out. He looked beautiful. Mirroring Will, Hannibal let out a polite laugh before taking a sip of his own wine.  


“Oh, I trust in your excellence in many capacities.” Hannibal was enjoying taking every opportunity he could to instigate a reaction from Will, and he was hardly having trouble doing so.  


Will felt his face return to the familiar flush and was saved the responsibility of responding as Alana Bloom appeared in his line of sight as she entered the living room. Her eyes widened a bit, and her smiling mouth parted as though she had been about to say something before the words got away from her when she saw Will and Hannibal.  


“Hello, Hannibal,” Alana said, taking a few steps, now uncertain, into the living room, “and hello, Will. I hope I’m not interrupting; your staff let me in.”  


Both men respectfully welcomed her, and Hannibal offered her a seat at the adjacent couch, which she accepted, though as she did she looked briefly scornful at the seat Will found himself in. Hannibal was not unhappy to see Alana, as he genuinely enjoyed her company, but he was unhappy at being robbed of spending some time with Will outside of the professional setting of his office, even if the time spent there were only “conversations” and weren’t inherently professional. But, it wasn’t unusual for Alana to show up early to Hannibal’s dinner parties, a rightful claim she felt as his friend. Hannibal betrayed no scorn towards Alana as he retrieved a glass for her as well and served her a beer.  


Empathy allowed Will to pick up on the slight bitterness Alana was casting his way, despite her attempts to hide it. He was a little affronted by this as he had never sensed distaste towards him from Alana before, but he attributed it to how he must be accidentally intruding on what was a usual arrangement between Hannibal and Alana. Will tried not to feel jealous at the idea of them having regular casual conversations in Hannibal’s house. He was not certain of what or whom he was secretly jealous of.  


The three of them engaged in slightly stilted conversation, and Hannibal and Will filled Alana in on the resolution of the organ donor investigation. Guests slowly trickled in closer to the hour and filled in the remaining spots in the living room before it was time for all to move to the dining table. Hannibal had not accounted for the extra table setting prior to Will’s arrival and was met with the decision of where to place Will. There had been an odd number of people before Will joined, positioning only Hannibal at an end of the table. Of course to portray Will’s importance as guest of honor, Hannibal knew he had no choice but to seat Will at the opposite end of the table, but it was not with regret for his distance. Will’s eyes widened as Hannibal showed him to his seat at the end of the table, knowing he would not be able to avoid the scrutiny of Hannibals’ guests at such an exposed position. Then, Will felt the spike of jealousy, becoming regular now, when he saw Alana was placed to the direct left of Hannibal on the far end of the table, leaving him feeling incredibly alone among the unfamiliar faces of the socialites immediately nearest him. The woman on his right wore a broach so garish and large that Will wondered if it would start talking at any moment to reveal its sentience, and the man seated across from her to his left, presumably her husband, sported a three-piece suit Will doubted even Hannibal could pull off.  


As soon as all of the guests had taken their places other than Hannibal, staff brought out platter after platter of ridiculously beautiful and incomprehensible food. The other guests began clapping upon the final plate of food reaching its designated spot, so Will joined them, and looked up at Hannibal who was all gracious smiles and polite dips of his head. When the applause ceased, Will felt Hannibal’s eyes on him, and he knew what was to come, much to his vexation.  


“I’m so pleased to welcome you all back to my home to join me for good food and even better conversation.” At this, the woman (or her sentient broach) giggled and interrupted to insist Hannibal’s food was never less than “marvelous.”  


Hannibal nodded his head in appreciation at the woman, and then the corners of his mouth quirked as his eyes flickered over Will’s face, which was still eyeing her broach in thinly-veiled disgust.  


“This evening, however, is a special occasion not just because I haven’t had the opportunity to entertain in a while, but because tonight we welcome a very special guest. Please, everyone, welcome William Graham to our humble gathering.”  


Will tried not to snort at the use of his full name and the descriptor “humble” to describe the ostentatious display before him. He haphazardly raised a hand to wave at the guests along both sides of the table as they applauded him, for some ludicrous reason. Though he didn’t look back up at Hannibal, he could feel his proud gaze beating down on him.  


The dinner turned out to be less unpleasant than Will feared, as Will found he was able to fumble through conversation easily since the woman to his left (Janine, he learned, though she neglected to introduce him to her broach) enjoyed talking for and above everyone else at their end of the table. After a few very intrigued questions aimed at Will were satisfied, Will was able to relax and enjoy his food, which he knew beforehand could not be an unpleasant part of the meal. But, he had not expected for every dish to boast its rivalry for the best goddamned thing he had ever put in his mouth. Will tried to school his expressions from looking a little too orgasmic, and kept stealing impressed glances at Hannibal in between dishes. While eating, though, Will was much too far gone to notice Hannibal’s furtive looks and the way his eyes crinkled minutely when his eyes caught Will in the process of taking a bite and sealing his lips over the food.  


Eventually, all of the courses had been served, finishing with a delectable lemon-berry savarin which Will secretly wondered if there was any extra that he could take home and moan over in private. After the last guest had laid their fork down to rest, Hannibal led them all to their feet and back into the living room for drinks. This mingling was a little more to Will’s taste as he could slip somewhat unnoticed into a corner and think about how this was like every school dance his more socially-competent friends had managed to drag him to in high school. Always the new kid in school and forever the wallflower, Will guessed.  


“Hannibal’s a lucky man,” Will flinched as a sultry voice materialized beside him.  


Will acknowledged the source of the voice, a woman who was almost his height with a round face and startlingly young features, “O-oh?”  


Will quickly appraised her to be in her early thirties and was probably the youngest member of the dinner party, and his empathy allowed him to sense her cunning and perception, so he guessed she was a psychiatrist as well or some other type of behavior analyst. She also appeared to be quite intoxicated. She grinned widely at Will and stepped closer to him so that she may speak almost directly in his ear.  


“I’ve never seen him bring a date anywhere, and now I’m positive it’s because no one had ever quite reached his standards,” she glanced down Will’s body playfully, “until now.”  


Will looked down at himself and grimaced at his attempt at a nice outfit compared to the semi-formal wear adorned by all of the other party guests.  


“I’m not Hannibal’s date,” Will argued with a fierce pink burning on his cheeks.  


With an amused raise of her brows she replied, “Are you not? What makes you think that?”  


Will was forced to gape at her in lieu of a response and she grinned again.  


“I’m Dr. Isabella Castro, by the way, but please don’t address me as ‘doctor.’ Dr. Lecter was my mentor when I was at Johns Hopkins.”  


Will frowned at this explanation of their connection, as it was identical to Alana’s relation to Hannibal. Just how many beautiful young women had Hannibal mentored and had on standby at all times? He didn’t have the energy mull over why this upset him before Isabella was speaking again.  


“So I take it you know Dr. Bloom, then?” She gestured behind her shoulder where Will saw Alana unabashedly laughing with an unfamiliar man.  


Will’s lips parted and closed again before responding with a little bitterness, “Yes, I do, why?”  


“My mention of Johns Hopkins seems to have flustered you, and I admit I caught her casting a gaze at you during dinner that was not one of intrigue like everyone else’s.”  


Will internally groaned at being surrounded by people who were dead set on psychoanalyzing his every action.  


“Alana and I are friends, and I imagine what you saw was just what remained of her shock at me joining for dinner,” Will explained. Seeing Isabella’s raised brows, he continued, “I wasn’t exactly invited, and from an outsider’s perspective, I might be perceived as being Hannibal’s patient. Which I am not.”  


Isabella’s lips curled and she nodded her head in understanding, “Gotcha, gotcha… so then what I saw in your gaze, then, was definitely not jealousy?”  


“Jealousy over Alana? Or Hannibal?” Will scoffed exaggeratedly, partially to himself.  


The woman chuckled, “You tell me, William.”  


“Please, just call me Will.”  


“Right, Will,” Isabella took a small step out of Will’s view of the rest of the room and closer to him and the wall. “Well, on the off-chance it’s Hannibal’s interest in Dr. Bloom you’re worried about, I think you should know he’s never introduced anyone as a ‘special guest’ before, nor allowed anyone to sit at the opposite end of the table.”  


Will found himself scoffing again, “As if I gave him a choice on where else to put me. He might as well have given me a high chair and a fucking bib.”  


He didn’t know why he was arguing with Isabella and realized too late he probably shouldn’t be so rude to someone he just met. At this realization Will looked up from under his glasses at Isabella prepared to apologize, and was surprised to see her on the verge of hysterical laughter.  


“Please, God, I think the only thing better than that image is imagining how much Hannibal would absolutely LOVE spoon-feeding you,” Isabella managed to get out between laughs.  


Will’s cheeks reddened and once again he found no reasonable way to respond to this. Instead he turned his head away from Isabella and gulped down the rest of his glass of wine. Isabella sensed his discomfort and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.  


“Listen, Will, I’m sorry for being so forward and embarrassing you, but if you don’t see how fucking clearly Hannibal wants to be the food you were struggling not to inhale earlier, I can’t help but want to be the one to enlighten you. It was nice to meet you.”  


She drifted away from Will and slowly her fingers left his shoulder, leaving him dazed and almost forgetting to return the formality. As Isabella drifted to some other conversation in the room, Will’s thoughts were suddenly too loud to hear any voices other than his own in his head.  


Will examined his feelings on being regarded as Hannibal’s date. He found it surprisingly easy to accept that the thought was pleasing if it was true to how Hannibal felt about Will, because of course Hannibal was sexy and suave as fuck. Will was also very quick to release any disappointment at the opportunity Alana could have served as for providing a sense of normality. But despite Isabella’s attempt, he was still certain Hannibal regarded Will as a friend only. Being Hannibal’s friend was also a pleasing idea, but something about imagining Hannibal wanting more set his blood to boil. This wasn’t worth considering clearly though, as Will had only been invited out of politeness, and Alana was clearly the most important person to Hannibal at the party, reserving the rights of sitting next to Hannibal and arriving early for drinks.  


Will’s thoughts were interrupted as once again he was startled by a woman’s voice. This time, it was Alana.  


“So, Will. Are we going to talk about why you’re socializing at your psychiatrist’s house?”  


Will scowled with no attempt to hide it, “Hannibal is not my psychiatrist officially. We just have conversations.”  


Alana stunned a bit at this blatant display of sourness from Will. This night was not turning out to be a good thing for their friendship as they both showed varying levels of veiled disdain for each other.  


“Will, you’re supposed to be receiving therapy from Dr. Lecter,” her voice was condescending now. “Therapy you need to be able to continue operating in the field. Don’t you think this is crossing the boundaries of a professional relationship?”  


“Dr. Lecter has no problem therapizing me regardless of the nature of our relationship,” Will growled, avoiding her eye contact.  


“I don’t doubt Hannibal’s ability to remain impartial, but I doubt yours. I think you should reconsider spending time with Hannibal outside of your sessions.”  


Will’s mind was ablaze with rage. Intending to sound a little more lighthearted and defensive, but coming out seething, he replied, “Jealous, Dr. Bloom?”  


Alana started. “Will, to be frank I expected more civility out of you. The way I see it, your sensitivity on this subject suggests I’m hitting the nail right on the head and that you need to be careful about where you let your emotions take you. Hannibal is a gentleman and won’t tell you when you’re crossing the line, but I will, and I’m not afraid to go to Jack.”  


Alana turned on her heels in fury and dashed away with as much strength and dignity as her small frame allowed. Will, still fuming in the corner, watched her disappear out of the room and return with her coat. She pulled Hannibal aside and seemed to only appear a bit prickly rather than enraged when she spoke to him. She kept her eyes low in the room, but Will could feel her desire to look his way. Hannibal was all politeness as Alana spoke to him, and after a few minutes, she said goodbye to him and left the room again.  


Hannibal watched her go and schooled his expression before turning back towards the room. His eyes also followed low along the floor before he reached Will and looked up to meet his eyes. Will could not determine what the look was in Hannibal’s amber eyes, but it relit the fire in him that had started to flicker out when Alana left.  
Will gulped as Hannibal approached him from across the room. Hannibal only took his eyes off of Will to make quick responses to comments cast at him as he passed his guests, and Will was increasingly feeling like a child who was about to get in trouble. Realizing he still felt he was at least somewhat dignified in his response to Alana’s insinuations, he resolved to defend himself with more fervor than a child. Will squared his shoulders back and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked Hannibal full-on as he reached him.  


Hannibal’s face, now close enough to Will to be read (of course still mostly inscrutable), betrayed condemnation and mostly amusement. “Will.”  


“Hello, Hannibal,” Will replied, lifting his chin up slightly.  


“It seems you have upset our dear Dr. Bloom,” Hannibal coaxed.  


Will was slightly surprised Hannibal did not seem more scolding in his voice. It occurred to Will that perhaps Hannibal was not upset at Alana’s early departure. But, that couldn’t be right.  


“I only defended myself against her accusations,” Will reasoned. “You do realize she was accusing both of us of being imprudent?”  


Hannibal hummed in response, “I’m aware of Alana’s concerns regarding our relationship, but I suspect you did more to perturb her than defend yourself.”  


Will smirked a bit and cast down his eyes, remembering how perfect his choice of word in “jealous” had been in causing Alana to redden as much as he had much throughout the night. Hannibal’s eyes softened at the opportunity to study Will. In his rousing of Alana, Will became much more vibrant. In his rage he was a heat to be felt from across the room, and in his satisfaction, Will was full of a warm confidence Hannibal had hardly had an opportunity to observe.  


“I may have accused her of being… envious,” Will decided this word was a little safer than his actual choice.  


The corners of Hannibal’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Envious? What do you suggest Dr. Bloom has cause to feel envy over?”  


“I thought she might be feeling the effects of no longer being your very special guest.”  


“Oh, Will,” Hannibal purred softly, “You should know Alana has never enjoyed any special advantages that the rest of my other regular dinner guests have not. You are alone in that regard.”  


This was not exactly true, as Hannibal did enjoy her company and Alana had made it a habit to arrive first and leave last when invited to his abode. This was mostly due to her own eagerness to spend time with the man, though, so Hannibal did not feel bad about the little white lie.  


He was rewarded for this with the return of Will’s attractive bashfulness. His cheeks turned the happy pink color, and his shoulders retreated forward from their position of confidence. Hannibal loved seeing Will’s emotions change in his body language, and flattery seemed to be doing well, so he pushed some more.  


“I’m actually a little relieved, to be honest,” Hannibal admitted, moving closer to Will’s right ear, not missing a whiff of his scent, “Terribly rude of me to speak this way about one of my guests, but Alana does have the unfortunate tendency of overstaying her welcome.”  


Will chuckled without looking up at Hannibal, who was still much too close. Will was afraid of what his eyes might betray to Hannibal if they met eyes at this moment.  


“It surprises me that you can’t come up with your own tactful ways to ask someone to leave if you wanted them to,” Will murmured.  


“Yes, well, sometimes I can be too polite for my own good. I suspect it has to do with being used to entertaining conversations I have little interest in, considering that’s what I do for a living.”  


Will gasped sarcastically, “I can’t believe you would say such a thing! How disrespectful of you to speak so rudely about your patients.”  


Hannibal grinned at Will who had looked up at him under the protection of his sarcasm. Hannibal was struck by the overwhelming urge to touch Will. Something about the humor in his bright eyes made him irresistible. Against his better judgment that this may be too soon as he couldn’t predict Will’s reaction to a touch with others present in the room, Hannibal found himself relaxing into a fond smile and tucking Will’s curls back behind his ear. The gulp that came from Will was almost audible and the unmistakable flush returned with a vengeance.  


Despite knowing his eyes and cheeks must show Hannibal exactly how flustered this simple movement made him, Will couldn’t bring himself to look away from Hannibal.  


“I-I, uh,” Will stammered.  


“Will,” Hannibal whispered as something flickered behind his pupils.  


“Hannibal!” A booming voice interrupted. Hannibal’s gaze lingered on Will’s parted lips for a millisecond longer before he turned to address the hindrance behind him.  


The man in the horrendous three-piece suit approached Hannibal and Will with Janine on his arm.  


“Thank you so much for having us again, Hannibal, we’ve had the most exquisite time,” he professed with obvious admiration to Hannibal, whose three-piece suit would beat the other man’s suit in a wrestling contest without earning so much as a wrinkle.  


“Marvelous!” added Janine.  


“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Tate. Mrs. Tate.”  


The man beamed and seemed to only just notice Will. “Oh, and Hannibal, what a lovely and most intriguing man you’ve found here. William entertained us greatly during dinner.”  


Will glowered before Hannibal put a hand on the small of Will’s back, causing Will to stand up straighter unintentionally and wipe the foul look off his face.  


“I’m so glad to hear you enjoyed meeting Will. I, too, find him to be most intriguing company,” Hannibal gave an earnest grin, moving his gaze from Mr. Tate to Will and back again, feeling Will squirm awkwardly against his palm.  


“Yes, I do hope you’ll have Will back here from now on, and perhaps we could enjoy his company at Don Giovanni next weekend, assuming you plan on attending, of course?” Janine fluttered her eyelashes at Hannibal and Will.  


Despite feeling Will’s rumble of disagreement on Hannibal’s ever-steadying palm, Hannibal replied, “I intend on being there, and I would love to bring Will, as long as he’ll allow it?”  


Will knew exactly how this conversation would go if he argued, and he knew that was exactly why Hannibal had put him on the spot. He nodded reluctantly and felt Hannibal pull Will ever so slightly closer to him. He knew without looking that Hannibal would have that smug smile plastered on his face.  


“Splendid!” Mr. Tate boomed. “I look forward to seeing you both again very much. Good night, Hannibal, Will.”  


“Good night,” Will grumbled as the couple left their company.  


Hannibal forced himself to remove his hand from Will’s back as he turned to face Will again. Expecting the angry toddler eyes, Hannibal was slightly stunned when instead he received Will’s playful smirk.  


“Formidable strategy, getting your friends to ask me out for you,” Will snickered, “But I expected a little more bravado from you, Hannibal.”  


For a split second, Hannibal was at a loss for words.  


“I did no such thing,” he retorted.  


“Then how about you ask me yourself like a gentleman?”  


Hannibal’s eyes were still revealing a hint of surprise when he shook his head and replied, “Why should I do that when I’ve already received a positive response?”  


Will licked his lips teasingly and watched Hannibal track the motion, “I thought perhaps you would want my acceptance out of desire rather than tricking me into obliging.”  


Hannibal was enjoying this game, but didn’t like how much control he felt Will had over him. He felt it flowing from him into Will’s hands like a floodgate had been opened. Hannibal realized that he was going to give Will exactly what he wanted, and he didn’t mind that thought. At least not this time.  


“Will,” Hannibal said in a voice that sounded calmer than he felt, “would you be so kind as to accompany me to the opera next weekend?”  


Will sported his own smug grin now, pleased that he had won so easily.  


“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if you didn’t like my use of original characters in this, but I personally felt it was necessary as I didn’t want to mess too much with canon and put Beverly or Jack or anyone somewhere they didn’t belong. I hope you understand, and I would appreciate your feedback in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, it’s no longer so closely related to actual season one events, so this is your warning if (even more) canon divergence here will put you off! Also I have a feeling I won’t be able to make this as short and simple as I originally intended it to be as my first fanfic… I blame my Slytherin ambition.

Will is still wearing his smug grin by the time he leaves Hannibal’s home the night of the dinner party. This does not go unnoticed by Hannibal. He found Will’s playful manipulation of him to be charming, rather than rude, as it surely would be coming from anyone else. It also had less to do with Will shamelessly flaunting his good looks at Hannibal (though that certainly did help), but rather the cunning that Will had demonstrated to him. While passively conversing with the remaining guests after Will had left, Hannibal played over the events of their conversations in his mind, having already committed them to memory, and knew it was no surprise that the moment Will had won what he wanted was when he had drawn Hannibal’s attention to his beautiful mouth and skillfully used the word “desire.” He had expected Will to be very sour and embarrassed at the idea of being toted around as a trophy by Hannibal at the opera and was looking forward to that display, but, to his surprise, his failure to predict Will was even more exhilarating.

Will left the party much too soon, probably not wanting to risk losing the opportunity of feeling like a smug bastard for as long as possible, and Hannibal had wished there was a reasonable excuse to convince him to stay. He wanted to poke and prod at Will’s intellect, with the aid of excessive alcohol in the younger man’s system, but, alas, he had failed to get the man drunk. There was still the matter of further examination of the symptoms Will was experiencing. Hannibal was nearly certain what Will was suffering from was encephalitis, but he could not yet determine if he had correctly identified the disease by scent without evidence of the other symptoms. Hannibal did not deny to himself that Will’s illness, darkness, and mind were not the only reasons he wanted to get the man alone, but he was finding it difficult to gauge the sincerity of Will’s feelings. Will was difficult in general, and Hannibal appreciated the challenge. His discernment allowed Hannibal to know that Will did find him attractive and entertaining, at least, but he couldn’t tell if to Will, this was any more than a game.

Hannibal didn’t want to play a game of which he didn’t make the rules. He had plans for Will, and if Hannibal would be forced to relinquish control to him in the face of inconvenient feelings, then he would have to be certain Will thought both men were on the same team.

* * *

On the drive back from Baltimore, Will enjoyed a salient moment of clarity about his feelings. He was pleased to have forced Hannibal to show his hand and that he seemed willing to play. He was thrilled at the prospect of being desired, not minding too much his uncertainty of just how far Hannibal’s desire reached, though if Isabella and his gut were to be believed, that desire extended to a great, great many lengths.

When Will arrived home, he completed his evening routine of caring for the dogs and leaving them to roam around outside while he showered. The hungry thing he had seen behind Hannibal’s eyes, the amused grins, and the hot, calculated touches on Will’s body burned brightly in his mind as the water engulfed him pleasurably. He felt a familiar ache he had been used to associating with no one in particular forming between his legs. Release was tempting, but Will decided it was still a little bold to assume the attraction was mutually sexual and knew he would be mortified later on if he had jacked off thinking about his psychiatrist who did not, in fact, want to ravage him, as he hoped.

Will ignored his urges and turned the water cold as he finished his shower. He dried off and found clean boxers and a t-shirt to wear before calling the dogs back inside and settling into bed for the night. Sleep reached Will easily as he thought about how surely there is no scenario in which it would be normal and not result in a referral to tell your psychiatrist you couldn’t stop thinking about them as you went to sleep.

* * *

The rest of Will’s weekend had been uneventful and domestic as Will had a rare break in casework and was permitted time to shower his dogs in affection. He felt cautiously relieved to have had several nights in a row sans nightmares. Only daydreams managed to slip their way into Will’s mind for a few days. Feeling desired was a big change to Will’s mood. As he made scrambled eggs one morning, he imagined strong arms slipping over his to lower the heat on the stove and a low, rumbling voice giving instructions to him an inch from his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Will wondered if the man in his thoughts would like seeing him as he undressed. Would he like his dogs, or would he always insist on Will coming to Baltimore? Most of these thoughts left Will half-hard and feeling a tad guilty, but he could hardly help being excited as it had been years since he felt this attracted to someone and knew it was at least somewhat mutual. Will would have to reign it in, he knew, when he saw Dr. Lecter the following week.

Half a week after the dinner party, Will had just fed the dogs when he blinked and found himself standing at the podium in his lecture hall at Quantico. Students were filing out of the room and didn’t seem to think anything was amiss. Will blinked rapidly and felt his hard pounding in his chest. He looked at his watch. 2:01. He had lost about six hours. Breathing heavily and eyes wide with fear, he felt for his phone in his pocket. His frenzied fingers found Hannibal’s contact before hesitating to press the call button. He took a deep breath and put the phone back in his pocket. He would see Hannibal in the evening, and they could discuss this new development.

As he didn’t have any more classes for the day, Will began to pack up his things to head to his office, trying to ignore the sweat gathering under his button-down shirt. Before he could put all of his books and papers into his bag, Will heard the sound of heels coming that he associated with Alana. He waited until the sound stopped before he turned around, leaned back on his desk, and lifted his head to see her face, but not far enough up to meet her eyes.

“Hi, Alana.”

“Hi, Will. I think we should talk.”

Will gestured towards the chair next to his desk. Alana moved to it and neatly crossed her ankles after sitting. He could tell she wanted to start the conversation, so he waited without saying anything in response. She was looking at Will’s feet until she took a deep breath before speaking.

“I want to apologize for the tone I took with you at Dr. Lecter’s the other night. Upon reflection, I realized I may have overreacted because there was some truth to your insinuations,” Alana said plainly. It sounded rehearsed, and Will could tell this was hardly an apology, but meant as an opportunity for him to do so. Her strategic use of Hannibal’s title implied that to Will, he was just Dr. Lecter and that as his equal, only Alana may call him Hannibal. The thought threatened to make him boil with anger, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit bad about his purposeful use of Alana’s feelings for Hannibal against her.

Will conceded, “It was inconsiderate of me to hit below the belt.”

It was not the apology Alana was looking for, but she continues with her prepared speech. “That aside, have you considered the truth of my insinuations?”

Will scoffed, shaking his head at the floor, and she went on, “Having a personal relationship of any kind with your psychiatrist is never advisable. You need to feel that the listener is an impartial party who is not clouded by their relation to you.”

“Before, you said I would be the one who would get distracted, not Hannibal,” Will recalls, meeting her eyes in a moment of confidence.

“While it would detract your attention from your therapy more than it would affect Hannibal, he is not without emotions,” Alana asserted with an ounce of anger. She had thought Will would have reconsidered what she told him at the party by now and was disgruntled by the fight he was putting up.

“Should I remind you that Hannibal is not my therapist?” Will smirked, fully recovered now, from the fear of a few minutes ago.

Alana bristled. “Whatever you want to call it, the field work is endangering you, Will. You can’t risk the integrity of the help Hannibal is trying to give you.” She sighed and looked almost resigned, too tired to get angry with Will again. “At least think about it, or think about finding another psychiatrist that can remain unaffected by you.”

Will hated how she made him sound like a virus, just waiting to hop onto the next healthy host. Part of him did still feel bad knowing she just wanted what was best for him, but a more primal part of Will despised her for suggesting he spend less time with Hannibal. “If I did that, you’d have absolutely no reason to complain about how close he and I get,” Will teased.

Alana frowned. “Just think about it, please.” She got up to leave.

As she left, Will felt his defenses relax. He regretted the negative turn his relationship with Alana had taken, but she had crossed the line by questioning his judgment and talking down to him as a child, something easily broken. Will didn’t want to consider that Alana might be right about his relationship with Hannibal, and how while it may be fine now, it might not be if their relationship progresses. He decided he would take it up with Hannibal. It was more his place than Alana’s anyway. Will finished clearing his desk in the lecture hall and moved to his office to wait out the hours before the 7:30 appointment.

* * *

Hours later, Will intentionally left his office a few minutes later than he normally would. He wanted to leave the concerning topic of his time loss for the later part of his conversation with Hannibal, and this freed him to have a little fun earlier in the session. When Will arrived at Hannibal’s office, he checked his watch before knocking on the door, trying to control a smug grin.

The door opened with a click and the taller man’s gaze was warm at such a close proximity. “Will, please come in.”

Will slid into the office between the door and Hannibal, who offered less space than usual through which to pass. Sauntering slowly towards his chair across from Hannibal, Will waited for the inevitable, given his tardiness and lack of apology.

As Hannibal shut the door, he cleared his throat and then moved to join Will. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“Why is that?” Will hardly pretended. He took a look at his watch, “Oh! Would you look at that; I’m nearly ten minutes late. You’ll have to excuse me, I got a little tied up at work.”

There was the faintest crinkle in the corner of Hannibal’s eyes when he responded, “Not to worry. I enjoyed the warmth of the fire as I waited. I probably would have taken to my sketches if you had not arrived.”

“Would you have waited the whole hour?” Will asked with a slight smirk.  


Hannibal leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. With an amused chuckle, “Does it please you for me to wait for you?”

“What would it say about me if I said it does?” Will mirrored Hannibal, uncrossing his legs so he, too, could lean forward.

“I’d conjecture it means you delight in having control over me,” Hannibal hummed. Will’s flush and shy grin in response awoke the dark hunger behind the amber in Hannibal’s eyes. This was the result Will was hoping for, and he felt like he might drool if he didn’t look away. To see that hunger again, to confirm its existence somewhere other than in Will’s memory, was enough to satisfy him.

“Maybe it’s just my residual hatred of psychiatrists,” Will joked, “No offense, of course.”

“Perhaps.” Hannibal leaned back in his chair again and artfully crossed his ankle over his knee. “By any account, I’m glad the events of the past weekend have not scared you off.” He does not need to ask Will if he enjoyed the dinner party. “How was work? What had you tied up?”

Without conscious thought, Will mirrored Hannibal again, settling further back into his chair as he recalled the past few hours, the ones he could remember. Deciding he’d still like to wait before discussing his time loss, he broached the subject of his conversation with Alana. Will recounted to Hannibal the conversation he had had with Alana in the lecture hall.

“She thinks we should remain on a professional basis, or I should see someone else,” Will finished.

Hannibal’s shift in mood was undetectable, but he felt the heat of anger almost imperceptibly coloring his skin. “I have no qualms about endangering the quality of the conversations we have, Will. Do you fear I will be biased should our relationship become more personal?”

Will blushed furiously, “No, of course not. I trust your judgment, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s smile slowly grew warmer. “Good. Perhaps, then, we should keep any mention of our relationship outside of this room private.”

Pondering the suggestion, Will rose to pace behind the chair. “Are you sure that’s necessary? I’m not even paying you.”

“I only suggest this to save both of us the trouble of arguing any more with dear Alana, or any others that may not be so pleased with our relationship expanding beyond these walls.”

Will knew Hannibal means Jack. He dragged his hands along the spines of the books on the shelf in the back of the office. Jack’s interference would certainly be even more annoying than Alana’s, and Will would hate for Hannibal to be subject to any scrutiny, just as he would. “Okay. We’ll keep anything that happens between us. I don’t want to hide, but of course we won’t be left goddamned alone if we don’t.”

“You can always see someone else to satisfy Uncle Jack that you’re fit for the field, but I’m more than happy to keep having you here for conversations,” Hannibal offered.

“I don’t want to see someone else.” Will’s eyes burned, with anger and lust, as he finally stopped his pacing and looked at Hannibal.

Pride swelled in Hannibal’s chest as he responded, “Very well.”

Hannibal knew he would have to take extra precautions to ensure that Alana harbored no further suspicions about the nature of his relationship with Will, but he did not share this with the man across the room. Will returned to his chair, eyeing the fire to his right behind the desk. He felt decidedly too warm, so he removed his blazer. The simple exposure of the layer that is tighter on Will’s chest enchanted Hannibal.

The reminder of clothes sparked Hannibal’s memory. “I assume you still intend to accompany me to the opera this weekend? I was wondering if you should like me to have a suit tailored for you.”

“Isn’t the opera a little public for a secret relationship?” Will laughed before he cringed at how juvenile “secret relationship” sounded.

“We have already committed ourselves to attend, and I hardly think we can expect to see any of our colleagues there,” Hannibal remarked, “But you didn’t answer my question about the suit.”

“No, no. I have a suit, thanks.”

“Are you certain? I have a very skilled tailor that could have something ready-”

“I said I have a suit,” Will interrupted.

Hannibal recoiled slightly at Will’s rude cutoff, but was not deterred. “I heard you. I’ll ask you to hear me out, just once. The patronage at the opera are never scarce of decorum in their garments, often to excess. I simply do not wish to make you feel underdressed, and I would greatly enjoy having something made for you to complement what I wear.”

As Will realized more and more what the night ahead of him would be like, he scowled. “Are you implying I can’t possibly have a suit that’s nice enough for the opera?” Hannibal opened his mouth to respond, but Will continued, “Well, you’re probably right, but you asked ME out, and ME is what you’re going to get.”

Hannibal’s lips turned up in an open-mouthed grin. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Pleased with this response, Will closed his eyes and basked in the smugness. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments until it became uncomfortable for one as he remembered a topic he had yet to bring up thus far. Fear gripped Will as he considered what had happened earlier in the day.

“This morning,” Will burst. Hannibal didn’t appear startled. “This morning, I was about to leave, and then I blinked and it was two in the afternoon.”

Hannibal considered this, for a moment longer than he needed to before asking, “You have no memory of the events between the morning and when you realized the time?”

Will shook his head. The rest of him was shaking, too. “I- I haven’t had any nightmares or hallucinations in days, though, and I don’t think I have been sleepwalking. Could it be getting better and today was just a fluke?”

The hope in Will’s voice crushed Hannibal. He stood, grabbing his pen, and got a notepad from his desk.

“It’s too early to tell. I’d like you to draw a clock face. Numbered. Small hand indicating the hour, large hand, the minute,” Hannibal said as he stood before Will.

“Why?” The response was incredulous.

“An exercise.” Hannibal handed Will the pen and paper. “I want you to focus on the present moment, the now. As often as you can, think of where you are and when. Think of who you are.”

Will began to draw on the paper, starting with a large circle. He complied, “It’s 8:16 PM. I’m in Baltimore, Maryland. My name is Will Graham.”

“A simple reminder,” Hannibal said as Will finished the clock face and handed it to him. “A handle to reality for you to hold on to, and know you’re alive.”

Hannibal looked at the deformed clock the man had drawn him. He considered his options, and looked up at Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original dialogue it’s 7:16 pm lol please forgive me, I just like their conversations being at 7:30 (as they are in season 2 I think). I have no real reason to defend this change… but hey! Please leave a comment with feedback as I loved reading your comments on the previous chapter! I hope to update again sometime this weekend :)


	3. Chapter 3

On the way home from his mid-week appointment, Will felt uneasy about Hannibal’s reaction to Will’s time loss. Did it mean that Hannibal thought it might happen again? Will had become used to the precise amount of control he had over his own life and behavior, and while unpleasant, the nightmares didn’t affect his feeling of control too much, as he had accepted restless, sweaty sleep as normal. The loss of time, however, felt like he was completely giving up the reins for hours, and that tipped the scale of his control so far over that Will didn’t know how he could manage to put it back into balance. Hannibal had said it was too early to tell what it means, though, so Will kept telling himself there was nothing to do but wait and see what happens. It wasn’t until he was nearly back to Wolf Trap when he finally was able to let it go and think of something more pleasant.

Will imagined Hannibal holding off on touching him, but stealing glances when they were with Alana or Jack. He imagined Hannibal pouncing on him as soon as they were behind closed doors. Will thought Hannibal would smell clean and like fresh rain in the woods. He wondered if Hannibal would taste savory like most of his dishes, or sweetly bitter. Would Hannibal text him while Will was at crime scenes, leaving him inexplicably in a good mood? Would Hannibal be the type to text at all? He knew he was getting far ahead of himself since he still had to have their date at the opera go well before he could dream of any of those things happening, but it was difficult to resist such tasty thoughts, since his thoughts were often not tasty.

Upon his arrival home, Will continued to let his thoughts wander as he took the dogs for a walk. He fed them and gave them each a cuddle after they ate, before finishing his evening routine and retiring to bed. Sleep eventually found Will, and he wandered into the stream.

Everything was slow as Will felt the calm rush of the water beside and between his legs. He cast his line and it moved through the air languorously, casually slicing through the soft breeze. Leaves rustled in the trees all around him. He heard thudding steps on the moist spring ground behind him and to his left. Upon turning his head to see whose steps he had heard, Will saw the stag standing on the shore, breathing in slow huffs. He blinked at it and started to turn back to the stream before it started to move closer to him. He watched as the stag moved back and forth along the shore, huffing with every turn. Its trot transitioned to a gallop, one way and then the other, with increasing urgency. Will thought it was inviting him to dance. He then felt the riverbed slipping out from underneath him, and the water rushed with much more speed and vigor. The stream, now a raging river, pushed Will along, and he lost sight of the stag. His limbs thrashed uselessly and he closed his eyes and gasped for a final breath before his head went under. Will focused his energy on his arms and legs and began to push himself up. The surface continued to elude him as he used all of his strength to reach it. Helpless, he opened his eyes and stopped moving when he saw that the water was thick and blood red. Where he expected to see light from the surface, he just saw more endless dark liquid. He felt something pull him down by his ankle, but he had already stopped trying to swim.

Gasping, Will sat up immediately upon waking. Cool air filled his lungs, as if replacing the warmth of the red, raging river that had made its way inside him in his dream. Unsurprisingly, he had drenched himself and his bedding in sweat. When Will’s breathing returned to normal, it was only for a moment before it picked up again, this time in rage. His time loss had not been a fluke. He was not getting better. The content of this dream suggested that his lack of nightmares the previous nights were not a reprieve but instead had been rearing up for that monstrosity. Will tossed the blankets off of him and stormed out of bed towards the bathroom. He turned on the sink faucet to splash cold water over his face.

_How could it be getting worse? I haven’t even been in the field at all this week._

Despite the very early time, Will did not want to attempt to sleep again. He wiped his face off, not bothering to change out of his sweaty shirt and boxer shorts, and he moved to position himself and his laptop at his kitchen table.

Until dawn was streaking through his windows, Will googled his symptoms like a common hypochondriac, hoping that he would find some cause to explain the changes in his levels of crazy. The sunlight told Will it might be a decent time to call Hannibal, but a look at his clock told him it was still much too early. Impatient, Will roused his dogs from sleep with a whistle and led them to the front door. They stretched from sleep and excitedly followed the leader of the pack outside for a long walk.

When Will and his dogs returned, he decided it was finally a reasonable enough hour to expect Hannibal to be awake, and he called.

“Will? Is something the matter?” Hannibal’s alertness could usually be attributed to his responsiveness to emergency patient calls and his former surgical profession, but of course it had more to do with concern for Will.  
“Yes,” Will answered just as quickly as Hannibal had. “Well, n-no, nothing is the matter like right now I suppose… I’m not dying, I don’t think, well not at this exact moment anyway-”

“Will, what is the matter?”

“I-I, uh, I had another nightmare, and it was worse than usual, and I’ve been doing some research, you could say, really I’ve been googling stuff and trying to figure out what might be wrong with me,” His panicked rambling continued.

Not letting Hannibal get any words in, Will rattled off about a dozen diseases and conditions that had symptoms resembling his. Hannibal waited until Will had finished and sounded like he just ran a marathon.

Uncomfortable with the new silence, Will prompted a response. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s worth looking into. I can recommend a neurologist,” Hannibal replied much too calmly for all he just said, Will thought. “If you believe there to be a physiological cause, then we will find it.”

“There has to be. I know what kind of crazy I am, and this is not it,” Will’s voice faltered towards the end.

“I believe you, Will. Regardless of the cause, I speculate the stress of your work with Jack is exacerbating your condition.”

Will inhaled slowly. He knew the field work couldn’t be good for him. “I know. I know. I can’t stop it, though, Hannibal, you know that.”

“I don’t, actually. Why shouldn’t you stop it if it is causing you distress?”

“I save lives.”

“What about your life? I don’t care about the lives you save, Will. I care about your life.”

Will didn’t know what to say to that. He was startled by the intensity in Hannibal’s words and was more startled by their sincerity.

Hannibal sighed. “I’ll reach out to my former colleague. We can go see him soon, get an MRI to start. Until then, think twice before you let Jack pull out the old mug. He’s done it without you plenty before. There’s no reason he can’t go a little while without your assistance.”

“Alright,” Will relented, knowing Hannibal was right.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you soon, Will.”

* * *

A couple of days later, Will cursed himself for not taking his tux to the cleaners. He had only worn it a few times before, and hadn’t bothered to check if he had gotten it cleaned after the last time. It had been years since he last wore it, and he hadn’t. As he pulled into Hannibal’s driveway in Baltimore, Will began savagely trying to smooth out the minute wrinkles and hoped that his cologne covered the smell of dust sufficiently.

After a hasty and dissatisfying look in his rearview mirror, Will exited his car, grumbling about why he even bothered to try to tame his hair. He knocked at the door and after a polite wait time, Hannibal answered.

He was a vision in black and white. Will realized he had never seen Hannibal in black before, and found that he was thankful that hadn’t happened before his lingering looks could be excused by his being Hannibal’s date. When Will forced himself to meet his eyes, Hannibal looked elated to see him, the picture of a perfect gentleman on a first date.

“Will, please come in.”

Will bowed his head in thanks and entered the foyer.

“I’m so glad you made it. Can I offer you anything to drink before we depart?”

“We don’t have to leave yet?” Will couldn’t tell if he was more anxious about socializing with the socialites or spending time with Hannibal looking like _that._

“Not yet. I have planned to allow us some time here first.” Hannibal moved to get Will a glass. “Whiskey or wine?”

“Whiskey. Please.” As Hannibal reached to get the correct glassware for whiskey, raising his jacket in the back enough to uncover the curve of his ass, Will decided he was definitely more nervous to be alone with Hannibal.

Hannibal handed Will his drink. “Thanks.”

After beginning to serve himself a rosy pink wine, Hannibal spoke, “You look wonderful, Will. My acquaintances are going to be all over you.”

Will blushed, “It’s just a tux.”

“It is, but in spite of it, you’re radiant.”

“In spite of it?!” Will scoffed.

“Yes, in spite of its attempts to hide your figure.”

“Please, it’s fine.” Will buried himself in a sip of his whiskey. Surely this isn’t how Hannibal talked to all of his dates about their dress.

“Fine, it certainly is. But, if you’ll recall, I offered to have something made for you,” as Will widened his eyes in surprise, Hannibal continued, “I don’t expect you to wear it, but if you wouldn’t mind looking at it, my tailor’s work would not be in vain.”

“Y-you can’t be serious.”

“I am. I know it was against your wishes, but I couldn’t resist. I hope you’ll reconsider accepting the gift.”

Hannibal led a speechless Will upstairs and into what could only be described as a dressing room. He unzipped a garment bag that was hanging in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in the center of the room. The revealed tux was somehow blacker than Will’s was, and against his better judgment, Will reached out to run his fingers along the lapel of the jacket. It felt finely textured and undeniably expensive.

“Of course, it won’t fit as well until we can take it back to my tailor so she can measure you properly, but I believe it will prove adequate for now.” Hannibal slowly approached Will’s back as he spoke.

Will didn’t know how he could speak so casually about approximating his size (from memory? Pictures? Will didn’t know which was worse) and assume Will would accept the gift.

“You guessed my size?”

“Thankfully my tailor is quite skilled in replicating dimensions from description and picture.”

“What picture…” Will muttered to himself more than to Hannibal.

Hannibal pretended not to hear him. “Would you like to try it on, at least?”

“I-I really shouldn’t, and I can’t accept it as a gift either way,” Will realized his hand was still on the lapel and reluctantly removed it. “How much do I owe you?”

“You owe me nothing but your company tonight. I would like you to consider it a gift.”

“Hannibal, I know this must have cost a fortune, and I can’t let you just give it to me.”

Will turned away from the suit in the garment bag to look at Hannibal sternly.

“Do you like it?” Hannibal’s voice was as calm as ever.

Will hesitated, and his eyes flickered back to the suit. “I… I do, yes. So I’ll pay you back for it.”

“You like it, and I would like to see you in it. It is a gift for me just as much as it is for you.” 

Hannibal redirected Will’s gaze to the suit and lifted it on its hanger out of the bag, holding it in front of Will and the mirror. Will slowly moved his eyes up to look into the mirror at himself, the suit in front of him, and Hannibal behind him. His fingers itched to reach out and grab the suit from him. He looked flustered, and he could see how dingy his own jacket looked in comparison to the stark contrast of the tux Hannibal held. Will’s imagination provided him with an image of himself in the new tux, nearly making up for his appearance otherwise, coming as close as possible to making him look like someone who could be seen standing next to the handsome man behind him.

“I’ll try it on.”

Hannibal’s lips pulled into a small smile.

“Good,” Hannibal said and handed Will the hanger. He walked towards the other door in the room, which Will could only guess led to a bathroom or a bedroom. “I’ll be in here until you’re ready. Please knock when you’d like me to return.”

Will watched him leave and wondered if this tux would make him look like Hannibal’s did. He stripped out of his out jacket, shirt, and pants and carefully clothed himself in the offered gift. The shirt and jacket were both surprisingly soft on the inside, and he noticed the jacket had a faintly visible tiny nailshead pattern that shimmered slightly when it caught the light. Will chuckled thinking about Hannibal’s less subtly patterned suits. Everything fit eerily well, definitely better than his own tux, except for the pants feeling a bit tighter than he would have picked for himself. Will’s cheeks reddened as he thought that perhaps given how well the shirt fit that this had less to do with an ill-fit, but that the grip on the seat of his pants was intentional. Before he looked at himself in the mirror, he scanned the surface areas for a tie, but didn’t see one in plain sight. He went to knock on the door where Hannibal had gone.

“Hannibal? Should I use my own tie for this or do you have one in mind?”

Hannibal entered with a quick onceover of Will. “Forgive me, I forgot to show you the ties I thought you might like.”

He moved to grab a sleek brown box from a shelf and removed the lid, revealing three different neck ties and a couple bow ties. Will was immediately drawn to one of the neck ties that was thin and shimmered like the jacket. Carefully, he picked it up and moved to put it on in front of the mirror.

“Please, allow me,” Hannibal gracefully put the box down and moved to stand in front of Will.

“I can tie my own tie,” Will grumbled at the taller man.

“I’m aware, that’s why I asked you to allow me to do it for you.”

Not seeing any use in arguing, Will handed the tie to Hannibal, who speedily got to work. Will tipped his chin up to allow him room to work and couldn’t help tensing his neck at the feel of Hannibal’s rough fingertips at his throat. Hannibal finished looping the tie and turned Will completely towards the mirror and stepped back to observe him. Will saw the pleasure on the man’s face before he looked at his reflection.

He released a small gasp at what he saw in the mirror. The man looking back at Will was difficult to reconcile with the mental image of himself and how he knew he had looked before he left in the other tux. He looked slimmer, sophisticated, and somehow taller. The starkness of the white made him wonder if he was just still flushed or if he wasn’t quite as pale as he thought. He cast an unsure glance at Hannibal, who took it as a signal to approach.

“You look magnificent, Will,” Hannibal said, stepping beside the man into the frame of the mirror. He slid a hand down Will’s back and rested it on the small. “It’s exactly how I envisioned it.”

Will leaned into the touch involuntarily and gaped at the sight of them. He thought they both looked like sexy Bond villains. Emphasis on the sexy, with how Hannibal continued to look at him. Will nearly caught himself agreeing that he did, indeed, look magnificent before he chastised himself for how conceited that would be, and he scoffed.

Too bashful to address the compliment, Will deflected, “I can’t imagine why you would want to envision this.”

Will saw Hannibal give his reflection a deliberately appreciative look. “Can you not?”

Will’s response was an intake of breath.

“I have nothing against your usual wardrobe, but it would be a shame to deprive everyone from seeing your versatility, wouldn’t it? This suits you just as well as anything you ever wear.”

“You think people are going to be paying attention to how I look? With you right there?” Will didn’t intend it as flattery, but shortly afterwards realized he didn’t really know what else it could be.

Hannibal smirked, leaned in to brush his nose against Will’s hair, and whispered, “I think you’ll take their breath away, just as you have stolen mine.”

Will whimpered, and then startled away from Hannibal, horrified at his noncommittal response.

Snapping out of it, Will began arguing again, “I’ll wear it, but I’m going to pay you for it.”

“If you want it, it is a gift,” and as Will opened his mouth to object, “No exceptions.”

Will huffed, turning away from the mirror. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hannibal just smiled, obviously taking it as a compliment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When writing this I looked up “Bond villains” to ensure they actually did, in fact, look like sexy Bond villains (in my head), and I found out Mads played an actual Bond villain, so guess I’m going to be watching Casino Royale! For research purposes… obviously.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite thing I’ve learned about myself after writing this chapter is that writing Hannibal fanfiction led to me accidentally capitalizing any words starting with “han” before catching my mistake lol… his Hand™, for example.

Before handing his keys to the valet attendant, because of course the opera house had a valet, and of course Hannibal was a patron, he opened the passenger side door of the Bentley for Will.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Will joked as he got out of the car.

Hannibal gave him a vaguely puzzled look, and Will sighed amusedly.

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

With a curt nod and a hand between his shoulder blades, Hannibal whisked Will towards the entrance of the opera house. 

The lobby was filled with people chatting before heading into the hall to find their seats. Will wasn’t sure if he expected to find comfort in a familiar face, but nevertheless the sea of strangers was overwhelming. He instinctively slowed down in front of Hannibal so he could be closer to him, leaning into the touch on his back.

“We don’t have to talk to anyone, yet.” Hannibal’s tone was reassuring and warm behind Will, sensing his distress.

“Please,” Will met Hannibal’s eyes for a moment. It was enough.

Hannibal directed Will through a path that seemed to ensure no interruptions and the quickest way to the entrance of the box seating. While Hannibal did not mind sitting on the orchestra floor, the privacy that a box allowed seemed a courtesy Will was deserving of and would appreciate. He was right about this, and he knew it when Will gasped exasperatedly when they entered their box, as if he had been holding his breath.

Hannibal let Will take a moment to sit and relax in one of the seats. Will took deep breaths and scanned the architecture of the hall around them detachedly, avoiding looking at the people that had made their way into the audience and not noticing Hannibal had disappeared for a moment. When Hannibal returned, he brought them each a program, as in their hurry before, they had neglected to grab them. He handed one to Will, who thanked him and looked through it.

“Do you speak Italian?” Will was skimming through the synopsis for the Mozart opera.

“Yes. I lived in Italy for some time during my youth,” Hannibal explained.

Will chuckled. “Of course you did.” He paused, turning a page. “How was it there? I’ve only been out of the country to go to Canada once for fishing and Mexico for work.”

“I have mixed feelings about my experiences in Italy, but Florence remains one of my favorite places on Earth. We can go, if you like.”

“That easily? I don’t even have to work for it?” Will teased.

“You only need to ask,” Hannibal responded easily.

“You’re serious?” Will looked at Hannibal’s face, plain as ever. “Of course you’re serious. You don’t joke. Do you take all of your partners to Italy on the second date?”

“I don’t have ‘partners,’ as you put it. And I do occasionally joke, but you’re correct that I’m perfectly serious about this.”

Will gave Hannibal a wide grin, much to his own surprise. “I appreciate it, Hannibal. But, don’t expect me to take you up on your offer anytime soon.”

“I have no expectations from you Will,” Hannibal reminded him.

Will dipped his head in recognition of the kindness. It stayed low out of something closer to embarrassment as he spoke again, “Thank you for getting us here quickly, by the way. I… there were just so many people, and it felt like too much.”

“I believe I can understand. These people are all strangers to you: their motivations and emotions are foreign, and they are not often well-disguised. Even if you have the ability to turn on your empathy, you cannot reliably turn off your understanding.”

Will hummed in agreement.

Hannibal placed his hand over Will’s and squeezed lightly. The gesture made Will’s heart flutter, and he didn’t dare look at Hannibal again until the lights dimmed signaling the start of the performance. The orchestra was heard tuning, from the winds and finishing with the strings, a soft blending of open tones. After quiet consumed the hall, including the polite patrons, the overture began. Hannibal’s hand remained resting over Will’s, and Will had to remind himself to look down at the stage after his gaze kept drifting to the other man. Even in the dark, Hannibal’s eyes gleamed, and Will’s empathy allowed him to enjoy the performance much like how Hannibal did. Though much of the stage action made the events clearer, a lot was lost in translation to Will as he wasn’t reliably watching the story unfold. Still, the music was approachable enough to Will, as Mozart’s composition was relatively uncomplicated to the untrained ear, in comparison to some of the much more complicated works Hannibal attended.

It felt like a surprisingly short amount of time before the lights came back on for intermission, to Will. Still, he leaned back and stretched his legs before standing with Hannibal.

“What did you think?” Hannibal asked Will as they began to head towards the lobby.

“Not bad, surprisingly. Although, I’m not sure I would have liked it as much if I was alone.”

Hannibal gave him a small smile. They approached what appeared to be some kind of private lounge. There was a man who worked at the hall standing at the door who greeted Hannibal by name and let him through. The room they entered was intimate but not too crowded. There was a bar and a piano, unoccupied. Will was thankful for the prospect of not having to socialize in the busy lobby they had rushed through earlier, and was amused and not surprised at all that Hannibal frequented this private lounge, as an esteemed patron here.

They headed to the bar before Will saw and recognized Isabella from Hannibal’s dinner party. She caught his eye and waved him over. Will looked to Hannibal as if asking permission.

With a quick rub of his thumb on the back of Will’s neck, “You go. I’ll get us drinks. Whiskey, I assume?”

Will grinned, savoring Hannibal’s hand on him, before saying, “You assume correctly.”

They parted and Will joined Isabella near one of the back walls, standing at a table at chest height.

“Will! I’m so happy to see you again!” She beamed at him.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Will replied, and he meant it, surprisingly.

Isabella sensed his sincerity, despite him still seeming reserved. “You and Dr. Lecter look great together, by the way. Everyone was watching you guys come in here. They all know him, and he never dates. I assume you’re not still in denial that you’re his date, right?”

“No, I’m not quite that stupid,” Will laughed.

“Definitely not,” she agreed. “Dr. Lecter would never go for someone that can’t keep up with him. I doubt he would even for a quick fuck.”

Will blushed and checked the bar to see Hannibal’s status on the drinks.

Isabella chuckled, sensing his nervousness. “I made you uncomfortable again, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply he was anything less than the perfect gentleman.”

“No, of course not,” Will snorted. “Do you come to the opera often?”

“Every once in a while. I’m not exactly in the social scene as much as most people in here are, but I live for the drama, so I have to check up on it sometimes. Maybe you’d like to be my partner in people-watching?” Isabella suggested.

Will sighed, “I’m afraid I’m far too observant. I’d just take the fun out of it.”

She looked intrigued. “Really? Are you a behavior analyst?”

“Profiler.”

“Ohh. Is it any fun for you then? Or would it be too much like work?”

“Fun? Not really, unless they’re hiding something, something different. Otherwise their worries are just too mundane, and underneath it all they’re all the same,” Will explained.

“I bet you most of the people in here are hiding something, though,” Isabella commented.

“Everyone has things to hide. If it’s something like insecurity, infidelity, or romantic or sexual inclinations, then it’s normally pretty easy for me to find out, given the chance to observe. There aren’t going to be many people with bigger secrets, and if there are, they’d be better at hiding it.”

Hannibal approached with his and Will’s drinks. “Talking about secrets, are we?”

“Isabella asked if I would join her for people-watching,” Will offered a smile in return for his drink and Hannibal joining them.

“Ah,” Hannibal nodded. “You would both be good at that.” To Will he said, “Isabella is quite astute at observing and interpreting microexpressions and body language.” To Isabella, “Will is an empath.”

Isabella eyed Will up and down, then, leaving him feeling exposed in the way that only psychiatrists did.

Knowing she was curious for more, Will went on, “I have an excess of mirror neurons.”

“Ah, so that _was_ disdain for my profession I sensed at the dinner party. I just thought it was aimed at Dr. Bloom, considering you seemed to like Dr. Lecter just fine.”

Will blushed, and he felt it deepen as Hannibal wrapped his arm around Will.

“While certainly a very interesting attribute of Will’s, his empathy is one of many. I am honored to be deemed interesting enough to be his date for the night,” Hannibal stated, pride evident in his tone of voice.

Will felt himself instinctively put his arm on Hannibal’s back in appreciation of his words. It was only when Hannibal’s breath hitched and he saw his lips part in his peripheral vision that Will realized this was the first time Will had returned Hannibal’s touch, and the effect on the man, though slight, was incredibly pleasing to Will.

“One doesn’t need to be able to read microexpressions and body language to see that that’s true,” Isabella said with a chuckle.

Hannibal nodded goodnaturedly, “He certainly encourages me to be more transparent than I am used to.”

_Transparent, my ass,_ Will thought. Hannibal’s hitched breath and parted lips were the only evidence of a momentary lapse in control Will was certain he had witnessed.

“God. You two are already disgusting,” Isabella said with fake disdain under her smile, “Help me find someone to be disgusting with if you get the chance, will ya?”

Hannibal laughed, a genuine laugh, and Will agreed to be on the lookout.

Their conversation continued, with a few interruptions with people Will had met at the dinner party and with introductions to people he had not. Names and faces registered in Will’s memory, but he hardly cared if he remembered the ones that weren’t present for the party, as he was certain Hannibal didn’t give two shits about those people, so he didn't need to, either.

Intermission came to a close after a short 20 minutes, and Will had somewhat enjoyed being introduced in relation to Hannibal rather than in relation to his job or abilities. No one here, save Isabella, knew anything about him as a curiosity of science. He was simply a subject of gossip for who he was with, and he found he didn’t mind that. Of course, the socialization was still more taxing than conversation with just Hannibal, though, so he was glad to return to their box in privacy.

“You seem more relaxed than when we last returned from the fray,” Hannibal commented.

“Less people. Makes it easier. It was also nice that they didn’t care about my brain. They were more interested in what I was wearing and who I was with.”

“A welcome change.”

“Yes.”

They sat in their chairs and sat in comfortable silence waiting for the hall to refill and the lights to dim once again. Will offered his hand to Hannibal, who accepted it gratefully. The rest of the performance was enjoyed with boyish excitement and then contentment at the simple contact, neither wanting to initiate the removal of their hand.

Will discovered he might actually like Mozart. Label me cultured, I guess, he thought.

The performance finished, Will followed Hannibal’s lead for the standing ovation, and they returned to the valet wordlessly. Once back in the Bentley, alone, Hannibal looked over to the passenger seat and softened at the evidence of a successful date. Will wore an easy look on his face. He was more relaxed than Hannibal had ever seen him, since he had met the avoidant profiler in Jack Crawford’s office a couple of months prior.

“Did you enjoy the opera, Will?”

Will smiled at him. “I did.”

“I hope you’ll let me take you again, in that case.”

“Sure. Thank you for taking me,” Will said before offering his hand to Hannibal again. It only felt natural after spending more than an hour like that, and Will retreated mentally and stared out the window peacefully for the rest of the drive.

Will realized he had been half-asleep when they pulled up to Hannibal’s house. He blinked the sleep away.

“Would you care to come in?” Hannibal asked, a fond smile playing on his lips.

“Just for a coffee? I’m a bit tired. Wanna make sure I get home okay.”

Hannibal nodded and they got out of the car. As they walked up to the front door, he offered, “Of course you are welcome to stay the night.” Will tensed minutely, and Hannibal continued, to put him at ease, “I have a spare room you could use. It is a long drive to your home, and it is late.”

Will exhaled. “That’s alright. Thank you, though. I want to get home to the dogs,” he said, though knowing that was merely an excuse as he had fed them. The thought of staying the night at Hannibal’s was exhilarating, but he wanted to keep Hannibal waiting a bit longer before he gave into his own desires. As ready as he was to jump into bed with him, the anticipation was too sweet to give in so soon.

Hannibal surely knew this was an excuse, and it was one he expected, but he couldn’t resist making the suggestion on the off-chance it was accepted.

Hannibal made Will a coffee with his french press, and it was consumed gratefully.

“Thank you for taking me, Hannibal. I really had a nice time.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Hannibal teased.

“Can you really imagine me going to the opera by myself? Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but it certainly doesn’t match the image my acquaintances associate with me. It’s the safest place we can go on a date undetected by anyone at the BAU.”

“And so we shall go again. Even Alana won’t be seen there to find us. I think I’d like to take you to see Gianni Schicchi in a couple of weeks. It’s a comic opera, and I’m interested to see if you’ll find it comical.”

“And if I don’t?” Will leaned over the kitchen counter playfully.

Hannibal grinned. “Then I’ll permit you to just watch me and hold my hand.”

“Sounds good to me,” Will was flushed, but he didn’t hide from it.

Hannibal closed the space between them. “When do you suggest I can just watch you?” He caressed Will’s cheek before tucking a curl behind his ear. “Perhaps you’ll let me draw you?”

“Seriously?” Will huffed out a nervous laugh.

“Yes. I wish I could capture how you look right now. Your eyes I could approximate with charcoal, but to capture the color of them and the pink gracing your cheeks, nothing short of an acrylic portrait would do. But, I’m aware I can’t capture every moment, at least not on canvas. So I’ll have to satisfy myself with sketches on paper and in my memory.”

Will sighed and put his hands on Hannibal’s waist, leaning forward so he could hide his face in the man’s chest. “You can’t just say that. This is our first date, Hannibal.”

“I don’t keep up with the standard dating conventions. If I have made you uncomfortable, I apologize, but I suspect you’re simply overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, God, what do I say to that?”

Hannibal put space between them but only enough to meet Will’s eyes.

“Perhaps you don’t have to say anything.”

Will gulped and felt the intent in Hannibal’s gaze. His eyes were hungry but tender and almost fearful. Will thought the man might be a tad nervous about how Will would receive the bold statements, which he thought was a delightfully relieving discovery. Hannibal was affected by Will, just as Will was by him.

Will allowed his eyes to wander to Hannibal’s lips, parted slightly. He moved slowly, giving Hannibal a chance to move back or take the lead if he wanted to, but he didn’t. The initiation was all Will’s to take, so he did. Soft lips met the waiting ones, and the press was painfully still for a long moment before Will remembered to move. He arched his chin further up and slotted his lips between Hannibal’s. The taller man hummed in pleasure and reacted slowly, as if afraid of making the wrong move. Hannibal tangled his fingers into Will’s hair and placed his other hand gently on the man’s hip, steadying him. Hannibal licked Will’s bottom lip which had been gently pressing in between his own two lips, and Will made an opening in permission granted. As Hannibal’s tongue slipped through, Will gasped slightly and gripped the other’s suit jacket and waist underneath harder. Hannibal’s kiss was searching and agonizingly slow, and it took everything Will had not to writhe helplessly underneath him, permitting the search to continue with no hindrance. Hannibal savored this moment of unobstructed openness, his fingers gripped tightly in Will’s curls, commanding him not to move.

When they finally moved away to catch their breath, Will realized his heart was pumping embarrassingly fast for such a slow, languorous kiss. This was not helped when he pulled away enough to see Hannibal disheveled slightly, as he had never seen him before. His mouth was a pleasing shade of red and swollen from the pressure of meeting Will’s lips, and he was gasping, a look of fondness gracing his eyes.

“God, Hannibal…” Will breathed.

“Will,” Hannibal replied, eyes suddenly hungry to touch Will again.

He jerked forward and pressed their chests together, holding Will by the hair into his neck. The small space between them had been too much, and their embrace was sweet relief. Will sighed contentedly and allowed his hands to spread over Hannibal’s broad back.

“Of fucking course you kiss like that,” Will laughed.

Hannibal chuckled and carded his fingers through the curls in a thoughtless motion. “Kissing you requires care and restraint that tests me in a way I’ve never felt before. I found myself wanting to consume you whole.”

Will groaned and involuntarily pressed his hips against Hannibal. He then realized they were both hard. How his own arousal had escaped his notice was unknown to him. He flushed fiercely and tried to pull back but was stopped from the firm hand on his hip.

“Just stay here a moment.”

The press of their bodies was agonizing for both men, but they both released and pulled back eventually.

“Sorry,” Will’s hardness was frustratingly stubborn, still.

“No need to apologize. We should get you home to your pack,” Hannibal’s hand lingered a second more on the side of Will’s face before dropping.

“Yes,” Will agreed. He distracted himself by looking at his coffee mug and tried to figure out where to put it.

Hannibal took it from him and placed it on the counter near the sink to be attended to later.

Will watched and asked, trying to keep desperation out of his voice, “When can I see you again?”

Hannibal smiled and walked him to the door. “Tomorrow, perhaps? I am free for the afternoon and evening. We can do dinner if you’d like.”

“Yes, dinner. That sounds good. I can cook. I’ll go fishing in the morning.”

“Wonderful.”

Will lingered in front of the door before opening it.

“Thank you again, Hannibal. For wanting to take me out,” Will leant up to peck Hannibal on the lips, and then avoided eye contact while opening the door.

Hannibal received the kiss and watched the beautiful man start to leave. He placed a hand on Will’s upper arm softly, stopping him for a moment. “Thank you for coming. I promise the evening was infinitely more enjoyable with you there. Will you text me when you arrive home safely?”

Will sighed, “Sure, old man. Goodnight, Hannibal.”

“Goodnight, dear Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH the first kiss is in the books! I promise I have lots more plot planned, it’s just so hard to resist the feeeelings if you know what I mean. 
> 
> Also please let me know if you have any fun ideas for a ship for Isabella. It would likely just be mentioned once or maybe twice, briefly, but it would be fun nevertheless lol. My first thought is Beverly, but I’m open to ideas!


	5. Chapter 5

Will stood in the stream, water colder than the air around him, but it kept him firmly planted, overcoming the threat the wind imposed. His line came back empty so he cast again. He waited, peacefully and thoughtlessly. For a moment he looked at his rod in his hands, and while his eyes were downcast, he heard a large splash. He began reeling in, but the line had no give. Feet firmly planted on the rocks at the bottom of the stream, he heaved again but to no avail. Will held the line taught and pulled himself along it towards where it went under. He was out of breath when he reached where the line met the water. Keeping it pulled tightly still, he slid one hand down the fishing line into the water. Expecting it to be snagged in some branches or rocks near the bottom of the stream, he gasped when he met something solid only a foot below the surface. He moved his hand around the hardness and felt something fibrous. Thinking it might be fur, he lifted the heavy mass upwards, awaiting the sight of some animal corpse rotting under the water.

Will screamed as brown hair surfaced. A face was revealed, human, with his lure and hook through its lip, and glassy, dead eyes. His own. He released his body by the hair and watched in horror as the pale face sank back underwater.

Suddenly Will felt fingers curl around his ankles, and he was seized and pulled under. He fought against the downward pull, but the surface faded further and further away, much deeper than the stream had been before. The water was warm now, and then he noticed it had ceased to be water. The grips on his ankles were fire-hot. The blood around him was too thick to see anything, and then Will realized he couldn’t breathe and his lungs were filled to the brim. All he knew was the blood, and the hold on his ankles was released.

Will woke, coughing wildly. He put his hand out in front of his mouth to check for blood, but there was none. The dogs stirred in alarm. Winston moved to his bedside and nuzzled against Will’s hand on the bed. He pet the dog instinctively, appreciative of the calming effects it had as he caught his breath.

He pulled himself upright and checked his alarm clock for the time. Thankfully, it wasn’t that ungodly of an hour, and Will had actually got some decent sleep before drowning in blood in his subconscious.

_Don’t forget catching my own dead body on my hook. How fucking great is that?_

Originally, Will was going to go fishing in a matter of hours for the dinner with Hannibal that night. That plan obviously had to change.

He went on a run with Winston to expel his extra energy and returned in time to shower and then be the first patron at the grocery store when it opened. He grabbed the ingredients for chili and left as quickly as he had come.

Will spent most of the day cleaning and trying not to dwell on how only he could manage to have such a morbid dream after such a nice evening. Jack called him to demand his presence at a new crime scene, and Will refused, remembering his phone call with Hannibal and deciding he did deserve a break. The response Jack gave suggested he hadn’t thought refusal was an option, but Will was released this once.

After he had done most of the basic tidying, he looked at his bed in the living room and wondered if Hannibal would think it odd like most people did, or if he would understand Will’s desire for closeness with the dogs and the front door and his unwillingness to make someone else’s former bedroom his own in the house. He thought (hoped) Hannibal might find it charming.

As he had just started trying to make the kitchen seem like he used it regularly, Will’s phone buzzed with a text from Hannibal.

>>> Dear Will, I look forward to dinner with you tonight. When should I plan on arriving? Sincerely, Hannibal

Will chuckled at the formality of the text and was glad he hadn’t called so that he wouldn’t be tempted to relay his dream yet.

>>> how is 7? chili should be about ready by then  
>>> oh I decided to make chili instead of fish, btw

>>> 7 is perfect. Anything you make I’m sure will be highly satisfactory. Sincerely, Hannibal

After fretting a bit in front of the mirror for a few minutes, Will decided to leave his stubble as it was and that his hair was not worth the trouble. Including his appearance, Hannibal would see Will in his natural state here. Will did most of the cooking, including a couple sides and cornbread, of course, before Hannibal arrived. When he did, very punctually, the chili just had to simmer a bit longer.

Hannibal knocked, and Will tried not to go to the door too eagerly.

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said once Will opened the door to reveal himself. He held a bottle of wine.

“Hi.” He was standing immediately in front of Hannibal, blocking most of the doorway.

“Can I come in?”

Will noticed his position blocking the man from entering and blood flushed up in his cheeks. He stepped aside and gestured for Hannibal to enter. “Yes. Sorry.”

Hannibal had the slightest hint of a smirk as he glided past Will, closer than he needed to. Will was reminded of their embrace the previous night, which had followed the most intimate kiss he’d ever had. How badly he had wanted to be held again.

The dogs excitedly greeted Hannibal with sniffs at his proffered hand. Will watched carefully for any unwelcome behavior such as licking.

“Care to introduce me?”

Will did so happily, and Hannibal treated each dog as it was introduced with a pet behind the ears, or wherever each seemed to like it most. Hannibal didn't seem to like or dislike any of them in particular and greeted them with the same indifference one might with a new acquaintance. Will knew Hannibal was taking in the living room that featured his bed, but Hannibal thankfully didn’t seem to care or at least didn’t comment on it.

“The food smells lovely, Will,” Hannibal smiled at him, and Will led Hannibal further into the house towards the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Will said, and he opened his mouth to explain why he had decided not to go fishing but decided against it.

Hannibal didn’t push him on it. He approached the counter and gestured to the wine in his hand. “Would you like a drink?”

Will scoffed, remembering how being a host was practically one of Hannibal’s professions and was flustered at his own failure to offer Hannibal a drink first or to procure wine himself. The moment had passed, though, so he sighed and accepted the offer, moving to get two glasses.

“How is it you manage to be a better host in my house than I am?”

He placed the two glasses on the counter and Hannibal poured.

“Hospitality goes both ways, Will.”

“Does it?”

Hannibal just smiled.

“I guess I should offer you a tour?” Will suggested, half-joking.

“If you’re offering, I’d be delighted.”

Will flushed, a bit stunned. “Well, there’s not much you haven’t already seen.”

“If I’m not mistaken, there’s another story. Is there not?”

“I don’t really go up there.” Will shook his head.

Hannibal moved to the back windows overlooking the fields behind Will’s house, taking his glass of wine with him.

“Too many ghosts?” Hannibal asked with a light tone, but the question was serious.

Will allowed the psychoanalysis. “It doesn’t feel like mine.”

Hannibal hummed. “This does though?” He gestured outside and then at the kitchen or the ground floor of the house vaguely.

It had been more of a statement than a question, but Will answered anyway, “Yes.”

Hannibal considers not pushing any further and changing the subject, but of course he doesn’t. “You are afraid of leaving your mark on the world. Here, even, where you allow yourself to unwind and release the others from your mind, you don’t wish to impose yourself too strongly. You bought this place and changed as little as possible. You immediately empathized with the former owners, even though they’re dead, and you are respecting their space even in death. These spaces which you occupy feel like yours because it’s not difficult to imagine being a long-term guest, or a tenant, whose landlords are generous with the privacy.”

Will had stilled behind the kitchen counter, not meeting Hannibal’s eyes when he felt them move to him.

“Something like that,” Will grumbled and shuffled towards the burner with the pot of chili on it.

He began to stir and turned off the burner before he felt a hand find its way to rest on his waist. Hannibal’s movement had been silent, and for a moment, all Will could feel was shock and amazement, both at the hand and how the larger man had managed to avoid the creaking of the floorboards.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll stop analyzing you for now.”

Will wanted to laugh at “for now,” which should have made him angry. But it didn’t. Hannibal’s analysis made him feel transparent, yes, but he felt something more than curiosity in it. He had felt many people experiencing fascination when witnessing him, but this was more than intrigue and the desire to use him for some gain, like fame from publication or sex. Will had the impression, for only a moment, but it was enough for him to dwell on it longer, that what he sensed while Hannibal gazed into him was something closer to obsession.

The thought sent him a shiver that Hannibal surely felt and feasted on.

The lack of apology didn’t go unnoticed. Will should have been angry, and he wanted to be angry. But, he wasn’t sure he wanted Hannibal to stop revealing things about him.

“It’s fine. Let’s eat.”

Hannibal helped him set the small table in the small room between the kitchen and living room. Will served the chili, cornbread, buttery green beans, and equally buttery mashed potatoes. He brought the wine from the kitchen and offered more to Hannibal who gratefully accepted. Will knew the meal wasn’t to be compared to Hannibal’s, but he rarely cooked and he thought it looked delicious.

Hannibal warmed to the nervous pride Will’s features betrayed, and he thanked him for the meal before beginning.

The taste was quite good, and Hannibal was pleased that Will already seemed to have talent in the area, so as a protégé, he would prove worthy.

After Hannibal had complimented Will’s cooking, they ate in silence for sometime. The silence lasted as long as it took for Will to get into his head and for Hannibal to see the miniscule changes in his countenance.

“Is everything alright, Will?”

Will flinched and glassy eyes looked over to Hannibal. “Sorry. I- I was just thinking.” He knew Hannibal would prod, so he continued. “I had another nightmare last night. Did you talk with the neurologist you mentioned?”

Hannibal set down his utensils. “I did. I was going to ask you when late next week would work for you.”

“Oh. I don’t teach on Thursdays and I’m free after 2 on Wednesdays and Fridays,” Will answered.

“I’ll get back to you on Monday after I have set up an appointment,” Hannibal nodded, noting the times. Because he hadn't asked the night before, he asked, “Have you continued your work with Jack?”

“No. He called today actually,” Will fiddled with his fork in the green beans.

“And you refused him?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’ll let me next time.”

Hannibal sighed, “Don’t let him bully you, Will. There will always be another killer that he wants to put in your mind, and they will always figure them out one way or another.”

Will sneered at the condescension, but remembered himself and relaxed. “Not always. He still wants me with the Ripper in my mind.”

Hannibal couldn’t say that he didn’t want the Ripper in Will’s mind either, so he didn’t say anything for a moment. “Unavoidable, I suppose. But you can still have limits.”

Will nodded thoughtfully and decided to take a bite at his recently neglected meal.

“We can talk about it on Wednesday if you’d like, or we don’t have to discuss it at all, but since it seems to be weighing heavily on you, and it was so recent, I wonder if you would like to discuss the content of your dream?”

Squirming in his chair, Will agreed, his need to vent outweighing his embarrassment at allowing himself to be so vulnerable.

“I was fishing. A lot of my dreams start that way, I just wish they’d stay like that. My line got caught on something, and when I went to dislodge it, it was a body. Mine.”

Will hesitated to continue, thinking that was probably plenty for the doctor to help him unpack. He wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that there was more.

Of course, Hannibal read him like a book, “You don’t wish to continue?”

“You’d think that’d be enough, wouldn’t you?” Will sighed. “It ended with me drowning in the river and the water turning into blood. The one before ended like that, too.”

“What do you feel when you have these dreams?”

“Fear,” Will answered simply.

“And afterwards, the same?”

Will nodded.

“But you are not afraid of these events actually happening,” Hannibal pointed out. “What you fear is the meaning behind them, what it means that you have the dreams in the first place.”

Will could only nod again. Hannibal noticed the man had started sweating and was twitching with nervous energy he had built up over the past few minutes. He wanted nothing more than to go over to Will and smell the hot, fevered sweetness he suspected was encephalitis and the raw scent of Will underneath it. He wanted to inhale Will and his madness so deeply they made a permanent home inside his lungs and memory. Hannibal made a point never to deny himself of anything he finds he wants.

Hannibal rose and moved over to Will behind his chair and began moving his hands over Will’s shoulders in a light relaxing touch. “I suspect and hope that we will find you some relief later this week. If not, or until then, avoid going inside others’ minds whenever possible. Focus on grounding yourself in your own. Whatever happens this week, try not to worry as we will know more soon.”

“You suspect there is something wrong with my brain?” Will’s eyes had closed, relaxing incrementally under Hannibal’s hands.

“I do,” and Hannibal’s response comforted Will immeasurably.

It should be humorous that he was relieved that his psychiatrist ( _psychiatrist/boyfriend?_ ) thought there was something wrong with his brain, but the thought that the problem lay instead with his mind was too foreboding a thought for Will to bear alone.

Fear started to pour out of Will’s body in sighs. He was too distracted to notice Hannibal smelling him behind the ear before putting his mouth on it. Will jumped slightly at the sudden cold of Hannibal’s mouth and tongue. As the tongue moved from his outer ear to the lobe and then down to his jaw, the air chilling the slick line in its wake, Will’s sigh turned into a breathy moan. His eyes snapped open at the sound he had made and he tensed. The hands pleaded with the muscles in his shoulders and one dipped forward, pushing over his shirt to massage his collarbone and chest.

“Relax, Will,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s neck.

Will wanted to argue, but he let it go for a moment to enjoy the touches and open-mouthed caresses that slowly turned into sucks. Hannibal’s mouth was magic, the cool of his tongue sending shivers down Will’s body as he let the nervous heat dissipate. The pads of Hannibal’s fingers were pleasantly rough once they slipped under the collar of his shirt and touched the skin that lay beneath.

“You trying to get me into bed?” Will chuckled breathily.

“Is it working?” Hannibal said with amusement in his voice.

“Mmmhmm…”

All hesitation on Will’s part had gone, and Hannibal, sensing it, moved one hand to Will’s jaw to turn his head to the side. They met for a kiss, both breathing heavily, but moving slow. Will’s mouth was pleasantly warm and welcoming, and Hannibal indulged himself in it, keeping his hand to Will’s jaw so he could deepen the kiss when he wanted and lock Will in place.

Without disconnecting for more than half a second at a time, Will rose from his chair and they both stood up fully. Will’s hands found Hannibal’s slim waist as they did the night before, but he gripped and held on with more fervor. Hannibal groaned at the hold and nipped experimentally on Will’s bottom lip. The resultant moan was gratifying, so he did it again. The hands on his waist squeezed tighter and then firmly moved to grasp at his back, not releasing any pressure as if afraid of losing their grip on Hannibal. 

Will nudged his thigh between Hannibal’s legs to feel the growing hardness there, eliciting a gasp from him. Will smirked into the kiss and pressed his thigh further, holding Hannibal tight to him. He decided to give Hannibal his fair share of kisses along his jawline and down his neck, and the enthusiastic mouth on the sensitive skin there made Hannibal release a long sigh. 

Hannibal was sure Will could feel his erection responding even more eagerly, so Will continued, careful not to stay too long at any one spot so Hannibal wouldn’t complain about him leaving a mark. Hannibal let the hand on Will’s jaw slide further until it rested in the curls that he habitually observed in their different states of existence, but rarely got to touch, and his other hand traced from Will’s chest down and around to the small of his back, hesitating, and then teasing at the hem of Will’s pants.

Will groaned and reached back to move Hannibal’s hand lower, and Hannibal instantly gripped his ass firmly, pleased with Will’s keening for his touch. Hannibal found he was also pleased with what he felt under the pants he despised for his suspicions that they did nothing for what lay underneath. He made a mental note to replace all of Will’s pants with tailored pairs.

“Take me to bed,” Will commanded in between kisses on Hannibal’s neck.

Hannibal sighed contentedly, “Of course, dear Will.”

He positioned both hands under Will’s cheeks before hoisting Will up against his chest. Will instinctively wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist and maintained his attack of sucking kisses as Hannibal carried Will back into the living room towards Will’s bed.

For the moments that Will was capable of thought, he found that he could feel how much Hannibal wanted him, and it was equal to how much he wanted Hannibal. He was a little disappointed in himself for giving up on his half-formed plan to play coy for as long as possible, but figured he probably couldn’t make Hannibal any more desperate for him at that moment, so he counted it as a win.

Hannibal set Will down on the edge of the bed and expected to be given a moment to remove his suit jacket at least, but Will’s legs around him were relentless. He tried to pull back and the grip tightened and Will pulled him in for another kiss.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Will gloated into Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal gasped as Will accented it with a bite on his lower lip, “Certainly not. How could I resist you?”

Will moaned without restraint and pushed them further back on the bed so that they both were fully laying, Hannibal heavy on top of him. As soon as Will had finished the use of his legs to push them up the bed, he wrapped them around Hannibal again, locking him in. Hannibal kissed a slow line down Will’s neck towards the collar and began unbuttoning the shirt there, one at a time, and kissing the skin as it was revealed. Will threaded his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and pulled.

Will growled, “Just fucking rip it.”

Hannibal stopped to look up at the lust in Will’s hungry eyes. “Patience.”

He did move faster though, Will’s grip in his hair doing little to favor the slow exploration he had intended on. After the last button had been undone, Will scrambled to completely discard his shirt, feeling too hot and too far from the man on top of him.

“Yours, too. Off.” Will commanded.

Hannibal obliged as gracefully and quickly as his garments allowed and tried not to worry about wrinkles as he tossed them aside, reminding himself something much less replaceable deserved his focus.

They took a moment to observe each other, both chests heaving. Will traced Hannibal’s forearm up to his pec, a look of awe betraying his features. Hannibal was desperately torn between absorbing the facial expression or the flushed chest and dusty pink nipples that had peaked in the new sensation of cool without his shirt, despite the warmth between them.

Will whispered, the awe shamelessly in his voice as well, eyes flickering up to Hannibal’s, “Why are you so strong?”

Hannibal chuckled. “Is this where I’m supposed to tell you about my diet and exercise regimen? Or do I just return the compliment?”

Will blushed and distracted himself from the man’s gaze by feeling the wiry gray hairs that blessed the man’s chest.

“If I didn’t know who I was bedding, I would be certain you were an angel, Will.”

The roll of his eyes was still charming with the rosy cheeks and tousled hair Will sported as he bashfully avoided the comparison Hannibal made. “Bedding? Really?”

The chuckle that arose from Hannibal’s chest felt deep and thunderous under Will’s fingertips. Hannibal took advantage of Will’s seeming fascination with his chest hair and palmed Will through his pants, earning a shocked gasp. As he continued, Will started to allow himself higher-pitched moans and whimpers, each of which Hannibal felt go straight to his own cock.

Hannibal quickly undid Will’s pants and pushed them and the boxers down low enough to release his eager erection. Will fumbled to do the same to Hannibal’s pants, though his fingers were much less deft. Neither of them took the time to fully take off either’s pants as Hannibal hastily took both of them into hand and moaned at the weight and feeling of their lengths touching. Will brazenly spat in his hand and joined Hannibal’s. He looked down between their bodies and whimpered at the sight of their cocks joined together in their hands. He absently thought that they complimented each other, Hannibal’s uncut, tinted purple, and slightly wider and Will’s pink and slimmer.

Hannibal disrupted Will’s observations with a thrust against Will.

“Fuck,” Will sighed. “Do that again.”

Hannibal did. Will tightened his grip around them, and the friction was bordering on too much. With his other hand, Will dug his fingers into Hannibal’s back, each thrust driving him closer to digging his nails in. It was a sudden bite on Will’s shoulder that drove him to bore into Hannibal’s skin, an equal trade-off in punctured skin and tiny droplets of blood.

Hannibal kissed and sucked the bite mark in atonement, and Will was helplessly moving his hand against Hannibal’s thrusts, too much and not enough at the same time. He groaned frustratedly, and flipped them over so Will could take over the speed. Hannibal grunted in surprise, but recovered quickly, one hand greedily seeking out Will’s ass to encourage the movement of his hips. Will’s new angle and speed provided adequate friction, so Hannibal’s other hand simply held them together, while Hannibal occupied his mouth with one of the nipples that hovered so tantalizingly above him. Hannibal started with the swirling of his tongue around it before sucking and slowly adding more and more teeth, and Will responded exquisitely.

“God, H-hannibal...” Will moaned at the end of his breath.

Hannibal switched to the other nipple and his voice rumbled sweet vibrations onto it as he said, low and rough, “My dear Will, how you overwhelm my senses.”

Will moaned even more wantonly, which he suspected would become the usual response to Hannibal’s voice and adoration. No one he’d ever been with had seemed half as sweet and desperate for him as Hannibal was, and he treasured the attention. The tension Will felt in the set of Hannibal’s jaw and grip alerted him that he was close, and he increased the speed of his motions and moved one of his arms closer to Hannibal’s head so that he could grapple onto the man’s silky hair.

He tugged emphatically on his hair, “Come, Hannibal… please...”

Hannibal moaned and tightened his grip around their cocks before allowing his release to wash over him.

“Will, Will, dear Will, oh my darling, Will,” Hannibal softly sighed a continual string of endearments, and it was more than enough for Will to follow shortly behind him, too pleased to be startled by the intimacy. Hannibal continued pumping and forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could watch the unguarded pleasure escape from Will’s lips. Hannibal felt his hips stagger from the ripples in his orgasm through his merciless grip on Will’s ass.

Will gasped for breath, never seeming to find it for several long moments as he moved his weight over to lie beside Hannibal. Hannibal turned his body to face Will and was rewarded with an arm around his waist and a leg hitched up over his hip. Both men were sweaty and glowing, the smiles exchanged between their faces even more intimate than their orgasms.

“That was…” Will started.

“Perfect,” Hannibal finished and softly pressed chaste kisses to Will’s forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and lips.

Will sighed with a fearless grin. “I think I was going to say something closer to awesome, but perfect ain’t bad either.”

“Beautiful, Will. You’ll never stop surprising me with your beauty in moments like these.”

Too flushed already, Will didn’t blush, and instead he buried his face in Hannibal’s shoulder, delighting in the man’s musky scent. He opened and closed his mouth before forcing himself to say, “I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Hannibal beamed and used a hand in Will’s hair to nudge him further into the space between his shoulder and neck. “Thank you, Will,” he said affectionately.

Will and Hannibal lay there contentedly, breathing only each other in, Hannibal carding his fingers through the brunette’s hair with the utmost care and attention, determined to focus on every detail of Will that his senses could find. Will was just relaxed, smiling into Hannibal’s skin, thankfully not overthinking the events just yet. Eventually their releases began to lose body heat and chilled on their stomachs.

“I don’t wanna get up, and I don’t want you to get up either, but it’s getting kinda cold down there.”

Hannibal grunted his agreement and slipped out of Will’s embrace. “I’ll be quick.”

He returned as promised before Will got the chance to feel guilty about letting Hannibal be the one to retrieve towels to clean them in his own house. A warm, wet towel cleaned them both off gently, and they dried themselves off with the other. Hannibal, careful in all things, leaned over Will to kiss him tenderly, relishing in the relaxation he felt in Will’s languid movements.

Will grabbed Hannibal by the arm that propped him above the bed. “Stay. Don’t go home, please. And don’t try to be all gentlemanly and argue with me. I want you here.”

Hannibal exhaled and planted another kiss upon Will. “Where else would I go?”

He removed his pants fully and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over with him, enveloping the two of them in each other’s warmth. Will drifted into dreamless sleep as Hannibal lay mesmerized at the sight before resting himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy it, too! This was my first time writing smut, and I have so many ideas for future times ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter uses a fair bit of dialogue straight out of S1E9: Trou Normand, so if it seems very familiar, that is why! I’ve also borrowed dialogue in other chapters, but it’s much more and more direct this chapter.
> 
> Something that made me laugh more than it should have when writing this that I hope makes some of you chuckle as well: as I typed out “Will’s knuckles” I accidentally said in my head “Wull’s knickles.”

Hannibal’s departure in the morning was unceremonious. He insisted on making them breakfast, and Will found that he couldn’t resist the offer of his cooking, even if it was just an omelet. It was a fucking good omelet.

Will hesitated with his hand on Hannibal’s arm before kissing him on the cheek as he headed out, and Hannibal grasped both sides of Will’s face and dealt him a ferociously deep kiss for before noon.

Gasping and laughing, Will playfully pushed Hannibal away by the chest, “Get out of here already.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll let you get to your very important Sunday duties.”

Will grinned. “Shut up. I’m a very busy man.”

“Of course you are.” Will’s gaze lingered on how Hannibal’s lips twitched when he was trying to be sarcastic.

They parted with another kiss. Will let his dogs come with him to watch Hannibal drive away in the Bentley.

Will absolutely _was_ a busy man. That what he occupied himself consisted more of reliving and reflecting than it did grading and lesson plans was nobody else’s business.

* * *

On Monday after his classes had finished, Will received a message from Hannibal about his appointment with a Dr. Sutcliffe at 4pm on Wednesday, as well as an offer of dinner in between his two appointments of the day. He replied to confirm both and questioned if Hannibal was cancelling appointments to go with him. Hannibal was and wouldn’t be talked out of it. Will sported a grin as he pocketed his phone, once again wrongly expecting to look up to his still empty classroom.

Jack Crawford stood waiting for Will to notice him, stern look of disappointment letting Will know exactly what conversation they were about to have.

“Hi, Jack.”

“Will, I’d like you to come take a look at something in the lab.”

Will laughed humorlessly. “Straight to the point, then.”

As he often did, Jack ignored Will. “Just photos and bodies. We need you on this one.”

“When do you not?” But Will had already given up hope of arguing with the man and was heading out the door with him.

Jack scowled at Will’s good mood and wanted to give him half a mind for having a nice weekend and skipping out on the crime scene, but said nothing, not wanting to spook Will from consulting.

In the lab, Will was greeted with the smell of rotting corpses, which was not unusual, but the smell was especially strong. Dozens of bodies and parts in various stages of decay and detachment lay across tables. There was a large printed photograph of how they had been found.

“A totem pole?”

“Human totem pole,” Beverly confirmed a little too excitedly.

Zeller added, “The world’s sickest jigsaw puzzle.”

“How many bodies?”

“We got seventeen in total,” responded Zeller.

Price gestured to one of the bodies, the freshest. Its parts were laid in the right place, but not connected. “This is the headpiece. Joel Summers. Forty years old, runs a cell phone store in Knoxville, Tennessee. Or did. Been missing for three days.”

Zeller continued, “Single stab wound to the heart. All the other injuries are post mortem. Bones broken, hips and shoulders dislocated.”

Will saw a flash of the killer. “He was special to him somehow. He held a place of honor.”

“Seven bodies from unmarked graves at the crime scene - earth on the body parts matches the grave sites.”

“Blunt force trauma, stabbings, strangulations. Wrongful deaths.”

Beverly finished, “There are at least eight other bodies that are recent grave robbings from all across West Virginia. No crimes attributed to any of them. Accidental deaths.” 

Will shook his head. “They were all murders.” 

No one said anything, letting him think and go on.

Will lingered on the crime scene photos. “Totem poles commemorate special events. They tell the story of a life. If Joel Summers is his finale, then this lowest body on the pole will be our killer’s beginning. His first.”

Beverly moved to the picture, examining the bottom of the pole. “Fletcher Marshall. Murdered in 1973. Beaten to death right in Grafton. His grave was robbed five days ago.”

Will took that in. “There will be a connection between Joel Summers and Fletcher Marshall.”

The team nodded thoughtfully, then they looked past Will to where Jack had just returned. Will followed their gaze.

He had evidently been listening, as his look of disappointment was momentarily held off. He said nothing for the moment, and the team continued working. Hours later, which went by quickly in their investment, they discovered Fletcher Marshall was Joel Summers’ father and that Laurence Wells had been questioned and never charged for his murder in 1973.

In Jack’s car en route to Grafton, West Virginia, Will was spared from Jack’s reprimands for not coming to the crime scene when he had called. Will’s assistance with Laurence Wells’ profile earned him enough grace to rest his head against the car window, more mentally exhausted than physically. His head felt hot and stuffed full. After redirecting the air vent’s stream, Will resettled against the window and watched the surroundings outside, afraid of what he might see if he closed his eyes. The landscape was hardly distracting enough.

Will blinked and was no longer in Jack’s car.

It was soft yellow light that seeped in from the outside, and Will held a mug with the coffee almost finished off. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. What he saw didn’t change. He was in his living room, and the direction of the light from the windows said early morning and not evening as it had just been. Will looked down at himself and saw he was out of his work clothes, dressed in his boxers and a t-shirt. His breaths were heavy as he looked up again to scan the alarm clock by his bed for the time.

It read 7:36. Will frantically moved to open his laptop to check for the date and to read his emails. Thankfully, it was only Tuesday. He confirmed that Jack had given him the day off and that he had cancelled his classes the night before, as was the usual mercy Will was given when he helped out and arrived home late.

Will racked his mind to see if he remembered meeting Laurence Wells or anything else after that, but of course, there was nothing. He was overwhelmed with helplessness and could only stir in it for a while without the obligation to go to work that day. The only thing keeping him from calling Hannibal was knowing that he had an appointment the next day, and there was nothing Hannibal could do to quell his anxieties at the present.

* * *

At 3:15 on Wednesday, Will arrived at Hannibal’s house. Hannibal waited until the front door was shut before he gave Will a peck on the lips in greeting. The man blushed and smiled up at him in return. They sat in the study discussing the totem pole murders for the wait before they left for the appointment, Will carefully avoiding mention of his time loss, thinking there was no point in mentioning it now. Hannibal let him omit it and tried to keep Will from thinking about how the appointment could go, exuding an aura of calm anticipation that Will felt and eventually clutched onto, forgetting his own feelings.

They made it to the medical center and Dr. Donald Sutcliffe’s office at precisely the polite time and Hannibal was welcomed like an old friend, which Will supposed he probably would be. Hannibal explained they were residents together at Johns Hopkins.

Will was treated with the indifference of a patient and thinly veiled disdain, felt more sharply in contrast to Dr. Sutcliffe’s very clear reverence for Hannibal. Unsurprised but uncomfortable, he squirmed in his seat as Dr. Sutcliffe asked him a series of questions before leading him to an exam room and handing him a blue paper hospital gown. He left Will alone in the room with the giant tube that was the MRI machine to change, and a nurse entered shortly after to help Will situate himself onto the sliding tray.

Keeping still was difficult. The machine was loud, and when he kept his eyes open he felt the pulses of the machine slow until he wasn’t sure time was moving. When he attempted closing them, they moved too quickly and then disappeared completely. He saw himself in the dark lying down in bed next to Elise Nichols again, almost feeling the antlers pierce him as they did her and she floated above him. Will opened his eyes before her blood could drip on him. The blindingly white lights inside the machine revealed Elliot Buddish’s form, only inches above him in the claustrophobic tube. The Angel Maker had come to change him. Will was no longer sure he didn’t want him to bring it out from inside, anything to stop the burning, itching feeling in his head.

When he was removed and dressed again, Will was told he had apparently done a good enough job at staying still, and that Dr. Sutcliffe would have his results shortly.

Will declined Hannibal’s offer to go to a coffee shop while they waited and asked if they could get something from the vending machine instead. He didn’t miss Hannibal’s look of repulsion, but Hannibal agreed, priority placed on comforting Will, which apparently meant staying in the waiting room with too many chairs for the few patrons and the sad attempts at abstract art on the wall.

“What do you want?” Will asked, standing up, determined not to sit still in wait the whole time.

“Nothing, thank you.”

Will rolled his eyes but went off to the vending machine he had seen down the hall. He bought a bottled Starbucks frappuccino and a Snickers bar.

He didn’t miss the scrunch of Hannibal’s nose as he sat back down next to him. After popping open the coffee and having a bite of the chocolate, he let out an exhale he’d been holding in since they entered Dr. Sutcliffe’s office. Will remembered the interview and discovered that his disdain for the doctor was a very welcome distraction from the nightmares that had occupied him in the MRI machine and behind closed eyes.

“That doctor really likes you, huh?”

Hannibal smirked slightly. “Is that jealousy I detect?”

His eating kept him from snorting. “Not jealousy. He just seemed glad to have an excuse to get to talk to you.”

“I’m not suggesting you’re incorrect about his esteem for me. That he has great respect for me is obvious. Do you mean to ask if I return those feelings?” Hannibal nudged Will’s shoulder with his own to encourage eye contact so that Will could see the humor, but Will did not indulge him.

With an eye roll, Will murmured, “You did take me to _him._ ”

“There are few neurosurgeons in my acquaintance that remain in the area. Not to mention ones that would do me the favor of a consultation with so little advance notice.”

Will huffed. “Well, he sure didn’t do it to see me.”

Hannibal took the chocolate bar from Will’s hand to widened eyes. He turned his body to completely face Will and put his hands in one of Will’s on his thigh. “Dr. Sutcliffe’s admiration is not returned. He is a discourteous man, but excellent at what he does. If you would like me to make the nature of our relationship known to him, I am not opposed to that, but I don’t think it would make him like you any more than he currently does.”

Will ignored his own flush at the word “relationship.” He shook his head before responding, “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Hannibal tilted Will’s head back up from its retreated position with a finger under his chin. “You will never be a source of embarrassment, Will.”

“You didn’t tell him I’m your patient?”

“No. I called him on behalf of a ‘friend.’”

“Oh,” Will continued avoiding the eye contact. “Still, you don’t need to do anything.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I… What would you do?”

“I would hold your hand. Or wrap my arm around you. Or whatever else you would prefer.” Hannibal answered plainly.

Will didn’t usually allow those simple intimacies. In past romantic endeavors, he hadn’t even gotten to a point where they called it a “relationship.” He remembered letting Hannibal touch his back on the night of the dinner party. It should have been surprising that he didn’t despise the touch. He wasn’t sure he’d even held someone’s hand since high school. Will was hit with how quickly he had allowed his own attachment to form with Hannibal. That he even allowed Hannibal to come with him to the appointment and share his fears with him was astounding.

Remembering he was supposed to answer, Will came out of his thoughts enough to respond, “You can. But only if you want to.”

“Very well.” Hannibal was satisfied with his honesty and squeezed Will’s hand before turning to right himself in his chair. He didn’t give Will the Snickers back.

* * *

A couple of hours later, with Will becoming increasingly anxious, a nurse came to retrieve them from the waiting room. Back in Dr. Sutcliffe’s office, a whirlwind of activities began when Will was informed he had Anti-NMDA Receptor Autoimmune Encephalitis.

The words of the diagnosis echoed in Will’s mind as he was alternately whisked off to different locations, touched out of necessity by nurses and medical professionals, and touched comfortingly by Hannibal. In his shock he had even failed to notice Dr. Sutcliffe’s bold assumption that Hannibal’s duties as a friend had been completed after the diagnosis and his low-spoken invitation to Hannibal to go out for drinks. Hannibal declined and took Will’s hand, going with him wherever he was taken, answering questions on his behalf and filling out paperwork as best as he could before asking Will for the remaining information.

By the time he had finally gotten settled, in a spacious hotel room that he was already cursing for how much it would set him back, Will was exhausted. It was late, and he was thankful the medicine would most likely promise a long, dreamless sleep. The final medical professional left him and Hannibal alone, wishing him a good night.

Hannibal pulled a chair up next to the head of Will’s bed from where he had been standing at the foot of it. He placed a hand over Will’s, earning a grateful pulling of lips that was more forced than genuine, though not out of any lack of genuine feeling for the man.

“You’re tired. You should rest,” Hannibal smoothed his thumb over Will’s knuckles.

Will hummed. “You’ve got to be tired, too. Following me around all day. Signing papers. Good boyfriend shit.”

Will huffed a laugh when Hannibal froze, assuming it was due to his foul language.

“Sorry. Language, I know.”

Hannibal recovered, “Not to worry. I should forgive you anything in your current state, don’t you think?”

“Maybe not, but you will, won’t you? But seriously, you shouldn’t need to be here. Go home and sleep. You have to work tomorrow.”

“I have to do no such thing.” Hannibal accented this with a squeeze of the hand in his. “I anticipate you will argue with me extensively, but I do not require as much sleep as most, and I have every intention of staying with you indefinitely. Well, I will certainly have to leave for one reason or another, but I will wait until I know you won’t be alone.”

Will sputtered, “H-hannibal, you can’t.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Please, it’s enough you did all of this for me today. Don’t let me be a burden on you. We got the diagnosis. All I have to do now is sit here and not inflame my brain.”

“You are not and never will be a burden to me, Will. I am here only because I want to be here.”

Will was too tired to keep arguing. He figured it was pointless to convince Hannibal to go home, at least for that night. He’d try again tomorrow. Instead, he just closed his eyes and nodded.

Sleep began to sweep over Will faster than it had in years, and he didn’t try to stop it, even as he felt Hannibal press a kiss to his forehead and whisper something unintelligible. He drifted off before he could even decipher if the words had been English.

* * *

In the morning, Hannibal was roused from his sleep in the chair in the hospital room when he heard heels approaching, suggesting a visitor rather than a nurse or doctor, and more specifically, Alana. He quickly righted himself, straightened his suit, and combed his fingers through his hair before standing to greet her outside of the room.

Alana was surprised to see him, which he anticipated, and he explained to her that the commotion with the diagnosis had all occurred during his appointment time with Will, so he stayed with him and it got late. She seemed to accept this explanation, always willing to trust Hannibal’s rationalizations. 

“Will is still resting, but when he wakes, I worry about him being alone for too long in the day.”

The unspoken question was answered by Alana, “I’ll be able to stay for a couple of hours, and then Jack is able to come visit. I’m sure I could convince Beverly to come visit as well, if not Brian and Jimmy, too.”

Hannibal made sure to look simply appeased, but internally he planned out his return to Will for when she would have gone. “Thank you. It was a very difficult day for him yesterday, and I’m not sure how much better today will be. Don’t dote on him too much, or he’ll get restless.”

Alana hid her confusion at his final request. She was under the impression Will would have told him about their confrontation, but Hannibal seemed to think her regard for Will was unaffected. Though, of course, she did still care about Will, so she acquiesced and entered the room.

Hannibal watched for just a moment longer, hoping she would manage to muffle the clicks of her heels on the hard tile so as not to wake Will. When she proved competent in that capacity, Hannibal left to attend to some tasks.

Will woke a little while later. His eyes opened to a face other than the one they were expecting and he jumped in surprise. He tried not to let the disappointment show too much on his face.

“Alana, hi.”

“Good morning, Will. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“It’s alright. I’m used to only waking up to some dogs is all,” Will tried to joke as he sat up and protectively pulled the hospital blanket with him.

“I’m only a bit less scrappy than your dogs are,” Alana gave him a small smile. “I’m sure Hannibal told you, but I took care of your dogs last night when he asked, and I’ll do it as long as you’re here. Or he and I will take turns.”

Will tried for a smile that looked kind of real. “Thank you, Alana.”

He didn’t know what else to say to her. Will recalled how spiteful their previous two conversations had been, and the bitter memories made it harder to remember that they had been friends before. What did they used to talk about? He wondered where Hannibal had gone. Though the man hadn’t left him alone, he wasn’t sure this was better.

Alana sensed his discomfort. “Do you need anything? Should I call a nurse to let them know you’re awake?”

Will didn’t think that was necessary, but latched on to any excuse not to talk to Alana alone for very long. It turned out to be a good idea, because as soon as the staff were alerted to his wakefulness, he was ambushed. It seemed they were actually waiting for him to come to in order to handle their unfinished business and morning routine, for which he was thankful. He felt very well rested for once, but being the center of attention was already draining him.

The morning activities of breakfast, tests, and medications allowed his conversations with Alana to remain at a surface level. When Jack arrived to take her place and not Hannibal, Will hoped the slight scowl could be attributed to the embarrassment he felt at his vulnerability or residual physical discomfort.

The look on Jack’s face reminded Will of the time he sat in Jack’s office waiting for him to talk after he found out about Bella’s cancer. There was concern in it, like before, but he also saw remorse.

Will couldn’t tell if he wanted Jack to feel guilty or not.

“This is why you needed a break, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“Seems reasonable enough,” Jack smiled with only the bottom half of his face, before returning to a grimace. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

The sincerity of his apology struck Will. “It’s not your fault. You gave me the opportunity to quit. I said no.”

“Did you really feel like you had the choice?”

“No, but that’s not your fault either.”

“I told Alana I would cover you. I let you get worn down by killer after killer.”

Will knew he wasn’t looking for reassurance, but, as always, he hated people feeling guilty about him. “I got sick, Jack. Nobody is to blame here.”

Jack sighed. “Too many people getting sick.”

Will gave a solemn look out of respect for Bella, who would not recover, unlike him.

Jack shook the thoughts out of his head. “After you get better, you will be honest with me, yes?”

Returning to the field was the last thing on Will’s mind, and he remembered lives still needed saving, even if his brain was on fire, even after. He shut his open jaw, unable to respond, and Hannibal entered.

“Dr. Lecter, nice to see you. I was just telling Will how we would be sure to be a better support system for him in the future.”

 _Is that what you were doing?_ Will thought, because if he heard Jack correctly, his remorse only went so far as to ensure Will would be okay for more field work after his recovery.

“Yes, I intend to be there for Will in any way I can, Jack. I hope you are not referring to supporting his continued consulting activities?”

Jack reddened, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Not right away, Dr. Lecter. Will deserves a long rest and substantial recovery period. Which will, of course, be paid, by the way.”

Will just scoffed lightly, sensing Hannibal didn’t want him to interject.

“I’m not sure it would be wise, Jack. Perhaps we can revisit the issue sometime in the future, but for the time being, it is certainly not reasonable to expect such strains to be good for Will. Despite the quoted “full recovery” period of two to three months, we realistically don’t know what to expect, and not much is known about longer-term effects on the mind after having such an illness. And, the stress of work at the FBI is certainly more taxing than the average person's work.”

Jack stammered a bit before deferring to Hannibal’s judgment, and Will was glad he resisted the fleeting urge to curse out Jack.

Defeated, Jack continued with further pleasantries, as pleasant as they could be with one participant hospitalized, before feeling unwelcome and leaving Will with a promise to return the next day.

When they were alone, Will thanked Hannibal and urged him to move his chair close to the bed again.

“How are you feeling, Will?” He asked before offering both of his hands to Will, which were graciously accepted.

“I’m feeling pretty okay, now. I don’t know if it’s just that I got decent sleep, or that Alana and Jack are both gone now, but I feel much better.”

Hannibal grinned widely and brought one of Will’s hands to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “I’m glad. I’m very thankful for how quickly the treatment is taking effect.”

“Me too. I guess that Dr. Sutcliffe was good for something after all,” Will chuckled.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes with amusement, but scornfully remembered Dr. Sutcliffe’s advance. “Yes. It’s good that he has finished being of use to us, for a while.”

If Will looked confused, Hannibal pretended not to notice, and the confusion was forgotten when he leaned in to kiss Will. The kiss was tender, and Will let himself melt into it, forgetting his anxiety about the prior events of the morning and even where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I’ve written fiction in almost a decade since I wanted to be a writer when I was younger, but back then I never shared my writing with ANYONE. This is really fun for me, while a lot of things in life are pretty not fun. Your comments are so encouraging and make me so so so happy. I almost regretted not finishing it completely before posting any, but now I’m so glad I have your nice comments to keep me motivated! Thank you all so much for reading, regardless of if you comment <3
> 
> Updates will continue to be on Sundays!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a happy Halloween! I dressed up as a werewolf. If it was maybe a secret nod to a certain scruffy dog man, my friends were none the wiser.

Hannibal’s comment about Dr. Sutcliffe was smoothed over and forgotten by Will as soon as the man’s lips met his. The day continued with hospital visits from Will’s friends, though Will was more inclined to believe they came solely out of obligation and suggestion from Jack. 

Naturally, Beverly, Price, and Zeller came together, and if any of them thought it was odd that Hannibal was there before they arrived and stayed until after they left, they didn’t say anything. Will was certain that their behavior in the company of the trio wouldn’t alert them to anything untowards in the psychiatrist-patient relationship, so he hoped that the recollection of Hannibal’s long visit would be ignored.

After the trio left, Will looked over to Hannibal over at the window, where he retained a respectful position that couldn’t be construed as intimate.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“And you know I am going to, as much as can be allowed.”

“It’s not as if the encephalitis will come back if you’re not here to scare it off,” Will averted his eyes from Hannibal’s determined gaze.

Hannibal chuckled and approached the bed, gracefully pulling the chair up behind him. “If you don’t want me here, Will, just say so.”

“Shut up,” Will muttered as Hannibal settled into the chair. “You’re going home tonight, get some real sleep. Don’t tell me you don’t need it. I just hate knowing you are taking time off and dropping everything to be here.”

“You don’t relish it, even a little bit? Knowing how devoted I am to you already?” Hannibal leaned in to whisper, “I believe that ‘good boyfriend shit’ were your words.”

Will cringed, remembering the term that had slipped out unnoticed. “Hannibal, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask… I shouldn’t have called you that…”

“Without my permission?”

“I don’t- I guess yeah. I presumed, I think. And also it sounds kind of stupid when you say it.”

Hannibal scanned Will’s face in amusement. “Then I’ll aim not to use that verbiage for you. But, you can call me whatever you like, dear Will.”

Will flushed, as he always seemed to when Hannibal ornamented his name like that. “Just remember you said that when I’m calling you all sorts of things, babe.” He almost managed to get the words out with a straight face.

Hannibal’s minute twinge of displeasure at Will’s chosen word made Will laugh heartily and his chest ached with the feeling, the first real laugh in several days.

“Don’t worry. I’ll only be using that one when I’m mad at you.” Will teased.

“A suitable punishment.”

Hannibal kissed Will’s temple softly, then ghosted his lips across his cheek and down to his lips. The press was achingly light before Hannibal leaned his chin forward to deepen it, Will waiting patiently with his lips slightly parted. A sigh escaped from him as Hannibal massaged their lips together. With the sigh, his tongue flicked out before he could stop it, and Hannibal remained for a second longer, only far too short, before he pulled back. Will groaned lowly, mourning the loss.

“Remind me why we’re in a hospital.”

“You’re recovering from an illness.”

Will huffed. “If I feel okay enough to want you to keep kissing me, I should be okay enough to do the same thing in my own bed, without an onslaught of visitors and nurses that could interrupt us.”

“Their interruptions are not out of line, however unwelcome. You must stay at least the few days required for the preliminary rounds of your treatment.”

“I know, I know. That’s how they get you. I’m sure this room cost a fortune, with how big it is... and the window... the privacy. They didn’t even ask if I wanted to share one. I would have.”

Hannibal elected not to tell Will that he had made the arrangements for the larger room and had already provided his own bank information and requested they not bother Will with the bills and to come straight to him. He knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed forever, but it could be avoided for some time after Will returned home before he noticed he hadn’t been billed, so Hannibal chose to avoid the protests Will would inevitably have until it was too late.

Will read Hannibal’s lack of response as judgment. “I shouldn’t complain. It’s a nice room. I can afford it. I just wish I didn’t have to.”

“It is an unfortunate set of circumstances, but fortunate that you are now getting better. I will also be pleased when I can have you to myself again, but for now, this is what is best.”

* * *

Will didn’t have any other visitors after dinner, and in the evening, Hannibal was convinced to return to his home to sleep in a bed for the night. As much as he didn’t want to give Will space, he knew Will, a man who wielded his independence like a weapon, would probably benefit from some alone time, or as close to it as was feasible in a building full of people. He left Will’s room and the parting image of Will’s easy smile burned in his memory on the way home. Seeing Will unencumbered by the torments of neither illness nor stress was rewarding, and Hannibal was unsure if the contentment would ever be exactly the same for the time to come. His Will could never be entirely predicted, and while Hannibal had his plans, of course, the sight of Will in pivotal moments could never be envisioned with nearly enough detail to do the marvel justice. Uncertainty gnawed at Hannibal like it never had before, but he allowed it to wash over him. Each new sensation brought to him by Will was one to be treasured.

Will tried reading one of the books Hannibal had brought for him but it was in vain as his thoughts demanded to be addressed. As much as Will could tell Hannibal liked him, he wasn’t sure he trusted that affection to be enough to dote on Will like he was. No one had ever stood so obstinately beside him. Will worried that because he had inadvertently given Hannibal some responsibility for his mental health, and now his physical health too, and relied on him for comfort during the worst of his symptoms, that Hannibal felt that being there for Will was expected of him. He felt guilty and helpless, his position in the hospital bed doing him no favors for his appearances of autonomy. It was all Will could hope for Hannibal not to pry into his feelings about being cared for by him. God knows what would happen if Hannibal found out he _liked_ it. And God fucking forbid he make connections to the lack of care involved in his upbringing. Just his luck to fall for a psychiatrist of all people.

The rest of the days in the hospital passed in what became a familiar routine. Hannibal brought Will books and his laptop and the two of them meals much better than what the hospital provided, Will took his medication and ingested a lot of fluids, and the same few people came to visit Will every couple of days, forcing Hannibal to leave at certain appropriate times. It felt a little excessive to Will to see some of the people who visited him even more frequently than he usually would. Being on bedrest did not increase his desire to see people like Jack and Alana. It was also strange to receive well wishes in emails from students and faculty he couldn’t conjure up the faces of from the Academy, even with his eidetic memory.

When Will checked out of the hospital, he didn’t notice that he wasn’t asked to sign any sort of release forms or look at a bill, assuming it would come in the mail later. Hannibal drove Will back to Wolf Trap at last. He was pleased to see that his car was already there, not still at Hannibal’s house, so that he at least had the option to get out if bedrest at home proved intolerable. He assumed it was the work of Alana and Hannibal, so he thanked the man getting out of the driver’s seat and made a mental note to thank Alana, as well as for her help with the dogs.

Will’s seven bundles of joy were leaping up at him, wild with affection, the moment he opened the door. His own exhaustion at hardly walking at all for several days forgotten for a moment, he scrambled to pet them all evenly and show his matched excitement at seeing them. Hannibal watched with a smile from the open doorway, not quite inside. Will flopped on the floor next to Zoe and Buster and the others followed suit, surrounding him from all angles. Hannibal then caught his eye, and he stalled his motions petting one of the dogs.

“I- you can come in, if you want. But you can go home, too.”

Hannibal replied with a smirk and stepped inside enough to close the door behind him. “I recall saying something about wanting you all to myself. It slipped my mind that that wouldn’t be the case.”

Will grinned and stroked Harley once more behind her ears before offering a hand to Hannibal. Once grasped, he accepted help hoisting himself up and braced himself on Hannibal’s other bicep. “They don’t mind sharing me.”

Hannibal warmed and planted a kiss on Will’s cheek. “While they may not mind, you might discover _I_ don’t much like sharing your attention.”

“Don’t take it out on them,” Will teased, rubbing his thumb along the smooth material of Hannibal’s burgundy shirt. “Part of taking care of dogs is loving them and giving them affection. And can you blame them when they haven’t seen their favorite person in sooo long?” He spoke the last part with a higher inflection and aimed at the dogs, some of which barked eagerly.

“The same could be said of good care for any creature. Love, affection, and the provision of basic needs. Food, water, shelter. That said, would you respond as enthusiastically if I provided you with dinner tonight?”

Will laughed and hit Hannibal on the shoulder, “You’ve got some nerve, Hannibal.”

“Is that a yes, then?” Hannibal reached up to cup Will’s cheek, and Will leaned in to the touch.

“You know it. How could I deny my basic needs, after all?”

Will kissed Hannibal with more confidence than their previous kisses. Hannibal let him and brushed back his curls before pulling apart to whisper, “You should at least sit down. You’re supposed to be on bedrest.”

“Will you sit with me?”

“I was hoping to start cooking. You could join me in the kitchen.”

They moved to the kitchen when Will agreed, and his limbs started to ache from the short distance before he settled into a stool at the counter. He watched as Hannibal moved about the kitchen, pulling on an apron that he was sure he hadn’t been carrying before and opening the refrigerator to a wide selection of produce that hadn’t been there the last time Will opened it.

“You stocked my fridge.”

“Yes.” Hannibal pulled out handfuls of vegetables.

“Very presumptuous of you, Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal flashed him a smug grin before paying attention to the preparation and setting a pot on the stove. “I could hardly resist upon seeing how little you had here to begin with. I anticipated cooking for you at least a few times this week, and thought it best to be prepared.”

“I don’t have much because I don’t like to waste food. I buy it when I need it.”

“Sounds like a recipe for hasty decisions on fast food.” The disapproval was thick in his voice.

“More often like frozen and boxed meals, but yeah, you have a point. What is on the menu today?”

Hannibal was currently pouring something into the pot on the stove and preparing a pan on another burner, washing and chopping vegetables in between. “Soup,” he said simply.

Will nodded, sensing Hannibal would explain more later. He let the man work, watching him expertly move from one task to another. With his sleeves now rolled up to the elbows, the muscles and veins in his forearms and hands were on display for Will. As usual, Hannibal seemed as comfortable in the shirt and waistcoat as Will felt in t-shirts. He supposed that was because of the quality and perfect fit of Hannibal’s clothing. The dance around the kitchen, though just as graceful as ever, seemed one more melancholy than in the moments prior. Hannibal didn’t speak to Will, and he didn’t mask his thoughtfulness from his demeanor.

“Let me walk you to the dining table,” Hannibal offered when he appeared to be stirring in the finishing garnishes.

Will obliged him and let himself be guided into a seat in the next room. He waited as Hannibal went back and forth, laying out place settings, utensils, and glasses before finally bringing in the soup to serve Will’s bowl.

As Hannibal poured his own serving, he broke the silence. “I don’t have a precise name by which to call this meal, as it is one of my own inventions and is variable. I made it often as a young man, and have occasionally made adjustments since. Today it features potatoes, leeks, and carrots, as I’m sure you saw.”

Will tasted it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal dipped his head in appreciation and took a first tentative spoonful himself. He closed his eyes and opened them to stare at mid-distance for a moment before looking to Will and offering a tight-lipped smile.

Will frowned. “Did you learn to cook when you were a kid?”

“Yes. As a young man, it became necessary that I learn. I did not always find the act as enjoyable as I do now. It was a necessity rather than a passion.”

“Ah. See, that’s what it was like for me, too, except I never really learned to enjoy it much. Maybe because I didn’t cook much beyond pasta, rice, and beans.”

Hannibal created an image of a young Will alone in a kitchen, boiling noodles. “Did you cook for your parents?”

“For my dad, sometimes, yeah. Though a lot of the time he’d come home after he’d already eaten something, so it was just for me.”

“Providing for yourself much like you do now, from an early age.”

Will nodded, scooping a spoonful of the soup before answering, “Yeah.”

“I cooked for my sister. Mischa.” He didn’t meet Will’s gaze when he felt it move to his face at the divulgence.

“I didn’t know you have a sister.”

“Had. She is dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Hannibal,” Will hesitated before extending his hand towards Hannibal’s and placing it atop.

Hannibal stiffened almost imperceptibly, then corrected himself and relaxed. “It is quite alright. It happened many years ago. Forgive me for being so contemplative this evening. This meal always reminds me of her, and I wanted to share it with you.”

When Hannibal met Will’s gaze, it was unwavering. They exchanged soft smiles.

“I’m glad you did, Hannibal. Thank you.”

They finished the meal in comfortable silence, every morsel consumed in appreciation of the pleasant company and wholesome food. Afterwards, Hannibal helped Will change and get settled upright into his bed before he went to tend to the dishes. When Hannibal returned, Will had waited patiently for him. Hannibal sat next to Will on the edge of the bed and wove their fingers together in his lap.

“I know I sound like a broken record, but thanks again for all the help at the hospital and for dinner and all the other things you brought me. And the dogs. All of it, just thank you,” Will squeezed Hannibal’s and he felt the gesture returned.

“Anything, Will. I’m being perfectly serious when I say that it is my pleasure.”

Will smiled. “Are you going to go home? You probably should, right?”

“Unfortunately, I must tonight. I have a few matters to attend to, but I can come back in the morning.” Hannibal’s tone was apologetic. “I will bring breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Will.” Hannibal leaned forward slowly to meet Will’s lips with his own.

Before they met, Will whispered, “Goodnight.”

The kiss was reverent from both men, both fearful if they moved too fast the other would back off and end it too soon. The delicate press never moved beyond a gliding of one’s lips between the other’s. Hannibal memorized the taste of his cooking lingering, partially imagined, mixed with the taste of toothpaste and the slightly salty natural tinge of Will’s lips. This flavor painted the meal in another light for Hannibal, and he was certain that the soup would now be associated with another in addition to his dearest Mischa.

The tenderness of it threatened to poke and prod at something inside Will, threatening to burst. Never had he kissed someone and felt this clear before. Never before had he felt such pure adoration radiating from someone. He felt it wrap around him, exactly as he imagined every embrace from his mother, the reality nonexistent.

They breathed each other in, cautiously but greedily, before separating only to remain inches apart. Will gasped softly, opening his eyes to meet Hannibal’s, barely far enough apart to be able to meet gazes. The awe he felt was reflected back in the amber eyes. He thought this man could ask anything of him at that moment and he would give it to him willingly.

With a somber sigh, Hannibal drew his face back more to regard Will. “I highly anticipate my return.”

He rose to his feet and moved to the door. Before leaving, Hannibal gave Winston a very sophisticated parting pet between the ears and glanced back at Will, who was watching him, mouth slightly agape, eyes doe-wide. He smiled and lowered his head in farewell and left Will alone to his own wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re such idiots… but idiots in love… and that’s the tea.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a bit of degradation (name-calling in this instance)

The telltale crunch of gravel in his driveway woke Will. He rubbed a hand over his face to wipe the sleep away. There was a moment of confusion before the memory of the previous night came back to him. Will fumbled to find his glasses on the bedside table before sitting up in bed and attempting to tame his hair as he heard an engine shutting off. Moments later the click of the lock on the front door sounded, and Will was pleasantly reminded that Hannibal had not offered to give the house key back after dog sitting, a sign he took as fortuitous.

Hannibal opened the door to an eagerly waiting Will, and the sight warmed him in a way that neither the morning sun nor the heat of the meal penetrating through the tupperware glass did. He exhaled a relieved sigh at the knowledge that Will had obeyed his bedrest.

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal kept his eyes on the man who was pleasantly basked in the sun rays through the window, gaze interrupted only by the dogs racing to get his attention as he greeted each of them.

“Good morning.”

“I hope I did not wake you?” In reality it was neither the truth nor a genuine question, as he knew very well that Will had not been awake long.

“Not at all. Well... I don’t mind anyway.” Will rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his calves under the covers.

“I’m glad to hear it. Are you hungry? Or shall breakfast wait?” He was already moving towards the dining room.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back for you momentarily,” said Hannibal as he left Will’s view into the dining room. The clatter of plates and silverware was heard from the kitchen, and after their ceasing, Hannibal moved back into the living room, approaching Will’s bed with silent footsteps. Hannibal offered him his right hand and slid his left behind Will to support his back as Will rose. Will opted not to protest, despite feeling very capable of walking the short distance to the table. Hannibal relished every moment Will let him take care of him, and Will didn’t mind it as much as he thought he should.

“Protein scramble,” Hannibal announced as Will lowered himself into his chair.

“Like our first meal.” Will smiled at the man as he came around the table to his own chair.

“Yes. I couldn’t help feeling sentimental this morning, but it has a doubled purpose in helping you regain some of your strength.”

Will took a bite. “It’s delicious, of course. Thank you.”

Hannibal smiled. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Will returned the look and nodded, returning to his food. “Are you working today?”

“Yes. I am sorry to be leaving you, but I must return for my afternoon patients this week or I run the risk of losing them.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. Of course you have to work.”

Hannibal didn’t miss the disappointment Will failed to disguise. He was elated that Will would be missing him, but knew it to be unwise to miss work for two weeks in a row due to appearances. “Have you thought about what you might do during your recovery?”

Will hummed. “A little. I think it’ll be nice to stay away from work for a while, and I’ve got some lures that have been calling to me. But, old habits die hard. I thought I might take the opportunity to write an article. Or rather start writing one.”

“Oh?” The hope in Hannibal’s voice would reasonably be read as intrigue. “What about?”

“Garret Jacob Hobbs. The Shrike. I think an examination of his pathology, especially his form of cannibalism, might be useful information to others in the field. I don’t want to make it about Abigail. It’s not about her, other than her role as his daughter. It won’t be about her.”

Hannibal masked his displeasure that Will would be delving into the mind of another killer other than himself again. “I trust that it wouldn’t. There is much to learn from Mr. Hobbs. While I think relaxation will be beneficial, I agree that lacking a feeling of purpose would not be good for you. Writing is a good way for you to satisfy your needs.”

“And what are my perceived needs, other than a feeling of purpose?”

“Preoccupation. Approval. Pride.” Will scoffed at the third. “You despise idleness and desire something to revert your thoughts back to when they migrate somewhere unpleasant. You seek approval from the authorities in your life, despite an aversion to the outward display of such approval. And I do not mean to offend you. You are not proud, but you take pride in your work. It is important to you that you are good at what you do and are respected if you cannot be understood.”

Will huffed, “You don’t have to be so right all the time, you know.”

“You asked, I answered. I do not think any less of you for the traits you possess. I’m interested in you because of who you are, not in spite of it.”

Will twirled his fork around a remarkably finicky piece of egg with a slight scowl, cursing himself for blushing at Hannibal’s offhand sense of honesty instead of being put off by the analysis.

Hannibal smiled inwardly at the display. That Will was deflecting so little at being seen so thoroughly was a vast improvement from their therapy sessions. He was very pleased at how effective this new intimacy with Will was at forging a path into the mind of Will Graham, one with seemingly less barbed wire and traps. Though not wanting to remind Will of any inequalities in their relationship, he backpedaled their conversation to maintain the casual nature of their discussion. “Will you start working on this article today?”

“Maybe a bit, but I need to see if I can get Jack to bring by the files. I’ll probably call him and see if he can come by tomorrow.”

“I think that is a wise decision for more reason than one.” Hannibal’s lips had twitched upward and relaxed before Will noticed.

Will glanced up from the bits of egg scattered on his plate. “What does that mean?”

“There is certainly an advantage to knowing exactly when Uncle Jack will come to grace your doorstep,” Hannibal’s voice dipped into a low purr. “A planned visit eliminates the possibility of him showing up unannounced.”

“Oh?” A grin threatened to creep up on Will’s face. “And why are you so opposed to that?”

“I wouldn’t want him to interrupt my time with you, as precious as it is. We mustn’t give him any reason to suspect our relationship of being anything other than mildly friendly.”

“I think you’re choosing your words very carefully, Dr. Lecter. Out with it.”

Hannibal played bashful, dropping his head only to look back up at Will through half-lidded eyes. “We can’t have Agent Crawford barging in at an unfortunate moment, Will. I wouldn’t want to damage his masculinity with such an evocative image. Nor would I want anyone to share my gaze of you in a compromising position.”

“How very protective of you.” Will was starting to detest the table for separating them. Though both men had just eaten, they exchanged hungry looks.

Hannibal rose and in two steps he closed the distance between them.

“Well, you are mine. Will you allow me to stake my claim?”

“Fuck, Hannibal, yes.”

Their lips met with a clash. All tenderness of the previous night had been replaced by the anticipation of the acts to follow. Hannibal wasted no time before sinking his teeth into Will’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan that came out of nowhere. Lips remained connected as Hannibal lifted Will into his arms and carried him into the next room, causing Will to laugh into his mouth.

“Are you going to make a habit out of carrying me to bed?”

“You _are_ supposed to be on bedrest, darling. Is that a complaint?”

Will sighed a hot breath onto Hannibal’s cheek, tightening his locked fingers behind the man’s neck. “Nope. Not complaining.”

After Will was carefully laid on his back along the bed, all ferocity resumed as Hannibal nipped wildly on Will’s neck and down to his collarbones, exposed by his thin t-shirt. Will bucked his hips up to communicate his excitement by making his growing hardness known to the man above him. Hannibal groaned in response and gripped Will’s shoulder hard before shoving Will’s shirt up enough to swoop down onto one of Will’s nipples. Will gasped at the cold sensation and the single gasp turned into a series of them when Hannibal flicked his tongue over the nub until it hardened, hinting his teeth at it when it did.

Hannibal helped Will raise his upper body enough to divulge him of his shirt before resuming his attack on Will’s chest. He eventually worked his way down Will’s stomach, the skin alight with the heat of Hannibal’s insatiable wandering hands and the chill of the air around them and the wet trail of saliva. Hannibal tongued at the hem of his pants and boxers, pulling it down to nip and tease where hip met thigh. Will groaned and reached down to push down at the obtrusive material, Hannibal helping him out of them as well, until Will lay completely exposed to a frustratingly suit-clad Hannibal.

“Want you naked, too,” Will gasped as Hannibal was kissing and sucking his way up Will’s leg.

With a final teasing swirl of his tongue at a tantalizing region of inner thigh, Hannibal shoved off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt deftly, a smug grin on his face as Will watched and tore his eyes across Hannibal’s skin as it was exposed, waiting for the man to return to him.

Before moving to the fastening of his pants, Hannibal queried, “Will this suffice for now? I’d rather like to use my mouth on you.”

Will moaned at the proposition and from his desperation at the lack of contact while Hannibal undressed. “God, yes, please.”

Hannibal disregarded his own straining cock in favor of the other’s, an enthralling sight bobbing anxiously below him, begging for his mouth.

He glided his tongue along the underside of it before flicking it out to sample the precome gathered on the head. Hannibal’s breath hitched at the taste, and he tightly gripped either side of Will’s hips in his effort not to impale himself wildly on the cock in chase of the man’s bittersweet flavor.

Will was whimpering at the grip on his hips and the look of pure reverence on Hannibal’s face, coupled with the sight of Hannibal’s bare torso and arms, muscular and flexing with effort and restraint. His grip kept Will from bucking upward into the heat of Hannibal’s mouth. The anticipation lasted an excruciating moment too long and Will was begging inarticulately. “H-Hannibal, fuck, _please_ , I need your fucking mouth…”

Hannibal only looked smug for a moment before he gave into temptation and slipped the pretty cock into his mouth. Will watched with rapt fascination at where his length disappeared into Hannibal’s mouth, savoring its head like he may never get to taste it again. Just as Hannibal was starting to suck in earnest, he stiffened inexplicably. 

At the sudden ceasing of movement, Will whined, “Hannibal…”

Hannibal’s mouth glided off of Will’s cock with a pop and he calmly asserted, “Someone is here.”

“What?” Will’s mind was clouded by lust, but he took a moment to strain his ears, listening for any sign of anyone there except for them. Hannibal had stood up and was gathering Will’s clothes and trying to hand them to him, but Will was stubbornly still listening, refusing to believe he could get so fucking close to getting sucked off by Hannibal, only to be interrupted.

“It’s Alana. Her Prius.”

After a moment longer, the gravel started to crunch as confirmation. “Fuck.”

Will accepted his clothes and started hastily dressing himself as Hannibal did the same with patience. “No. Fuck her fucking Prius. Good car for stalking. Stupid.”

Hannibal gave him an amused questioning look.

“She told me that once when I didn’t hear her drive up. Looks like she’s making good on that threat now.”

Hannibal chuckled as he tugged on the sleeves of his suit jacket, perfecting their position. “Now, Will, we must remember dear Alana has a perfectly good reason to see her friend after his stay in the hospital.”

“I don’t know if she’d call me her friend anymore. And the sentiment is returned.”

Hannibal helped Will back into bed and pulled up the covers, giving Will’s neglected erection an apologetic glance. Will missed the proud smile Hannibal shielded from him as he went to pull a chair towards the foot of the bed and seated himself in it. He wanted to frame every scowl Will had made at the mention of Dr. Bloom and carve every icy tone of voice used in reference to her into his memory, collected as evidence of Will’s preference of him and his protectiveness of their relationship. Hannibal also added them to his mental file on Will Graham’s spite and fury, a charming favorite of his. Alana had unintentionally helped send Will his way, cementing herself in an important role in Will’s Becoming, and Hannibal itched with excitement at seeing Will in the moments he anticipated playing out.

Hannibal allowed the enticing feeling of impatience to course through him before halting it in the moments before Alana knocked. When she did, he rose to let her in, knowing very well she had seen his car parked outside and seen him through the curtainless windows.

He opened the door and pleased himself internally by greeting her as he would into his own home.

Alana stepped inside and regarded bedridden Will before turning back to Hannibal and in a hushed tone of voice, noted, “You didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

“I apologize. If you had shared your intentions with me, we could have driven together.” He positioned himself carefully to her right side, keeping her gaze from the dining room table’s hastily left remains. “Shall I make you some coffee?”

Alana flashed a frown at him and nodded before moving to address Will. “Good morning, Will. How are you doing?”

Hannibal took the opportunity to clear the evidence of their shared breakfast before preparing coffee.

“About as well as you could expect,” answered Will. “Better here than in the hospital.”

Alana sat in the chair Hannibal had moved for himself, and Will hid his contempt. She crossed her delicate legs. “I’m glad to see you at home again. It suits you. The dogs missed you.”

Will smiled, glancing over at his well-behaved pets where they lay in front of the fireplace, undisturbed by Alana’s presence. “Thank you for helping take care of them.”

“You’re welcome. I was glad to be useful. And they’re very good companions.”

Will didn’t mind talking about his dogs, so he stuck with the safe subject. “Yeah, they are. Have you ever thought about rescuing?”

“A bit. I always thought dogs came later. Some latter part of the equation of family, marriage, and kids,” Alana mused with a shy smile. “Doesn’t have to be that way, of course. After the time with yours, I might think about it more.”

As she cast a glance towards the other rooms, Hannibal manifested in the doorway, artfully carrying three mugs of coffee. He handed one to Alana and one to Will, each with a different polite smile. He grabbed Will’s desk chair and positioned it between Alana and Will by the side of the bed.

During the silence as they sipped their coffee, Will delighted himself with the knowledge that their positions had flipped from the last time the three of them sat together with drinks at Hannibal’s dinner party, Alana now being the unexpected intruder. He resisted the urge to say _Well. This is fun._

“Will and I were just discussing the possibility of his writing an article on the Garret Jacob Hobbs case. I think it would be a good use of his time as he recovers.”

Will flushed and stifled a grin at how that had certainly not been what they were doing in the moments before Alana’s arrival.

“Ah, that’s a great idea, Will,” Alana praised. “You used to write so much more before you started teaching.”

The smile was forced in response, the unintended condescension piercing him like daggers. “Teaching kept me busy. And then Jack happened. Have you written anything lately, Alana?”

She frowned. “You don’t blame Jack for you getting sick, right, Will?”

“No, I don’t.” He didn’t offer any elaboration.

“Your work may have exacerbated your condition, but these things just happen.”

“I know.”

Hannibal was thrilled with the icy exchange. It had seemed far too easy to turn Will against his “friends,” but the results were highly satisfactory.

Will redirected his hot glare into the mug, staring down the coffee swirling in it as he nursed its spin with a slight push and pull of his hand.

Hannibal ended the silence with admirable social refinement by asking Alana about her recent sessions with Abigail. Pleased with the question from him, she answered, careful to cast glances towards Will so he felt the information was for him as well. Will was glad to hear of Abigail’s seeming adjustment to her own recovery, and he resolved to reach out to her soon to check on her.

After an appropriate amount of time for a visit passed, Alana assured Will that he must be tired and _they_ must be on their way. Her assumption that Hannibal would leave with her, like she was _claiming_ him somehow, made Will’s blood boil, but he couldn’t risk arguing. She and Hannibal grabbed their coats and made to leave, Hannibal tossing Will a sly wink before closing the front door behind him. Will knew it was a promise to return later, after Hannibal had seen his patients.

* * *

Alana’s visit had abated his erection, but Will still felt unfairly left hanging. He dared not touch himself, though, out of fear he might fail to perform later on. He let the day slip away with little concern towards how he spent it. He arranged for Jack to bring him the Hobbs files the next morning, and he attempted to read carelessly as he waited for Hannibal to return. It felt foolish, waiting all day for his significant other to come home to him, doing nothing useful, but he rejoiced in having no responsibilities and reacquainted himself with the feeling of having a normal-sized brain in his head.

Evening came and so did Hannibal. And by the time he did, Will was starving for him, and he eagerly rose from bed to meet him at the door. Though Hannibal’s clothes were spotless and pallor was refreshed as they had been in the morning, Will sensed the erosion that Hannibal endured throughout his workday.

“Welcome back,” Will kissed Hannibal on the cheek in greeting. “You seem tired. How about you sit down and I make some tea?” Will urged Hannibal into one of the armchairs in the living room.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Hannibal placed guiding hands on Will to suggest he sit where he was being moved himself.

“I’ve been in bed all day. I’m making some tea.” He placed both hands on Hannibal’s shoulders to lightly push him down. He grinned before placing a kiss on Hannibal’s forehead. “Let me do something useful. I missed you.”

Hannibal grinned and agreed to the care with a nod. “I missed you, too, darling.”

Will left for the kitchen and came back bearing two cups of tea, in his nicest dishware.

Hannibal took the cup gratefully from Will as the man sat next to him in the opposite armchair. He took a sip and teased Will before drinking any more, “Is this you taking your turn to claim me as yours, now? Did Dr. Bloom’s visit irritate you? Other than as the rude interruption it was, of course.”

Will laughed. “I love that you’re not even trying to be subtle.”

“Jealousy is such an attractive look on you.” All Will wanted was to wipe the smug look off Hannibal’s face and replace it with one of need, to see the man lose his control for Will.

“Oh please. It’s less jealousy than it is annoying that I can’t say ‘Alana, Hannibal was about to suck me off before your surprise visit, so if you don’t mind we’ll actually be getting back to that.’”

Hannibal’s amusement showed underneath his frown of disapproval. “You wouldn’t say that, even if she did know about us.”

“I would. Politeness is _your_ thing, remember?”

“My thing, is it?”

“Yep,” Will declared, before mischievously murmuring, “Which is why you’ll insist on taking care of everything for me tonight. Is there anything I could do to convince you what I want now is to take care of your needs first?”

Hannibal purred with pleasure, “What are my needs, dear Will?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure one of them is me.” He stretched his arms overhead, letting his t-shirt expose the strip of skin and hair below it before the hem of his pants, and we watched Hannibal track the movement and take him in with unmistakable lust.

“You cunning boy.”

Hannibal propelled himself forward suddenly to stand over Will in his chair, taking him by the lips forcefully. Will moaned in surprise and kept moaning when Hannibal slipped his hands under his shirt and felt the skin there greedily, one hand finding a nipple and teasing it to hardness. Hannibal used the opening to venture his tongue into Will’s mouth, tracing around the inside of his lips and touching his tongue with light darting movements.

Will let the man search his body hungrily before he remembered his mission, and he tightened his grip in Hannibal’s hair to separate their lips. He flipped their positions so that Hannibal sat in the armchair instead, and he placed kisses interspersed with carefully placed sucks and bites along all the skin Hannibal’s shirt and jacket left exposed, each bite earning him a glorious gasp from Hannibal. When he reached the collar, he pushed the suit jacket off of Hannibal’s shoulders and helped him out of it before starting on the waistcoat and shirt buttons.

Hannibal was allowing Will to take what he wanted, and all he could seem to do in exchange was card his fingers aimlessly through Will’s soft curls and watch rapturously at the points of contact where Will’s lips met Hannibal’s freshly exposed skin along his chest and stomach, marvelling at how Will paused to tug at his chest hair. When their eyes met, Will smirked, the cunning boy he was, at how the smug grin had indeed left Hannibal’s expression, replaced with pure awe and lust.

When Will had undone all the buttons on Hannibal’s ensemble, he continued kissing and sucking at the soft flesh above his hip bones, supple in the seated position, but with promise of strong muscles rippling underneath, as he attacked the fastening of his pants, much less clumsily than the last time he had tried to. At the sight of the exposed silk boxer briefs and the wet spot on them at the head of Hannibal’s erection, Will’s mouth watered. He sucked at the spot of precome, bitter but pleasant in its familiarity, and Hannibal let out a broken moan, edging Will on to pull the pants and boxers in the way off.

His cock sprang proudly when it was released, and Will had to have his mouth on it immediately. He sucked the head into his mouth as he finished shoving Hannibal’s pants to the floor, leaving the man exposed in a long line down his body, other than his shirt and waistcoat at his sides hanging from his shoulders. Hannibal groaned at the warm wet mouth around his cock, and his grip in Will’s hair became less experimental as he grabbed it roughly.

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal moaned.

Will would have smiled, but he was a bit occupied. He found a pattern of light laps at the head of Hannibal’s cock, languorously flat licks along the length, and increasingly tighter sucks around it that slowly went closer and closer to the base, following his mouth with one of his hands while the other traced the sensitive skin on Hannibal’s inner thighs and balls. Will prided himself in his skill at this, a result of a lot of practice in college, evident in Hannibal’s delectable, unhindered sounds.

When Will could feel the tension of anticipation in Hannibal’s thighs as he grazed over them, he stopped teasing and hollowed his cheeks to suck in earnest, breathing in the pure manly scent of Hannibal through his nose. One hand started to roll Hannibal’s balls between his fingers, slowly tightening the grip while the other grappled onto his hip, massaging above the bone with his thumb. Will’s hungry and skilled movements took Hannibal by surprise and when Will first swallowed around his head at the back of his throat, he released a desperate cry he would have never allowed in the company of other sexual partners. So, when Will took that as an invitation to do it again, and again, and again, Hannibal threw his head back against his own wishes to watch Will, and closed his eyes to focus on the physical sensations.

“My GOD, Will, stop or I will-”

“Do it,” Will grumbled before resuming his relentless attack.

Hannibal groaned and he thought about tugging Will off of him by the hair, but instead he ran his fingers approvingly along Will’s scalp and lifted his head to watch Will take him as he allowed himself to release. The way Will pumped him through it without hesitation, eyes closed in what looked like shameless ecstasy as he swallowed Hannibal’s come, Hannibal was sure he would never forget.

Will swirled his tongue around every bit of it and swallowed before he released Hannibal’s cock and opened his eyes, lapping at the head one last time, not because he missed any, but for one last groan from Hannibal.

“Mmm, Will… who knew you were such a cockslut?”

And it was Will’s turn to moan.

Hannibal offered his hand to Will and pulled him up onto his lap sideways, throwing Will’s legs over the arm of the chair. “What a good boy you are.”

Hannibal brushed his fingers down his chest from under his shirt and started to palm Will’s cock with the other hand. Will squirmed and whimpered with surprise at his own desperation to be praised again by Hannibal. His need to be touched, though, was unsurprising due to his neglect of his own arousal through his devotion to Hannibal’s orgasm. That paired with the denied release from earlier had Will sensitive to every touch.

Enamored with how Will responded to the praise, Hannibal continued as he undid Will’s pants to stroke him skin to skin. “You did so well to please me, darling. Could you think of anything else today?”

“No,” Will moaned. “Just you. And your cock.”

Hannibal purred, “You’d only seen it once before, Will. What a good memory you must have.”

“I thought about… the way it looked… next to mine. When it was between our hands,” Will said breathlessly.

“It was a charming sight. Much like you are now, Will. So beautifully shameless, letting me take care of your need.”

Will whimpered and blushed at the attention called to his looks and tried to bury his face in Hannibal’s neck.

“No, Will,” Hannibal removed Will from the hiding spot and stroked him slower for a moment. “Let me see you.”

Will nodded and lifted his head back into Hannibal’s line of sight, only to involuntarily throw his head back with a throaty moan as Hannibal twisted his wrist around his cock. As Hannibal stroked him, he experimented with Will’s responsiveness to different treatments of his nipples, all favorable.

“So good at taking what I give you. You’ve earned it, with that masterful mouth of yours. I don’t want to know how many times you had to have done that before to have that much skill.”

Will started to say something, and Hannibal interrupted, “I don’t want to know. There won’t be any more, though, right, Will?”

“No, Hannibal, no more…”

“Just me.”

“Just you. I couldn’t go back to anyone else after seeing your cock, Hannibal.”

Hannibal growled, “Very good, Will. So needy for me.”

“Yes…”

“The next time I leave you waiting like this, Will, it will be because I want to see you desperate for me. I won’t let anyone else take me from you.”

The words tugged at Will’s heart and caused his cock to twitch one last time before he was coming, too surprised to articulate a warning. “Fuck! Oh, Hannibal…”

Hannibal caught Will’s mouth in a kiss and swallowed his last noises of pleasure as he spilled onto his stomach and into Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal kept stroking him until he was soft, slowing to a stop, and then he brought the hand that had brought Will to completion to his mouth and he sucked his release off of his fingers, causing Will to gasp at the sight. Looking down at the evidence of his orgasm on his stomach, Will felt somehow more debauched that he had come apart with all of his clothes still on than he would have if he had been naked.

Hannibal combed his fingers through Will’s hair and stroked his thigh calmingly. “How are you feeling, Will?”

“Good. So good.”

Hannibal smiled and kissed him on the forehead. “I meant, are you tired? That was a lot more physical activity than you’ve had in a while.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m a bit tired.”

“Shall I draw you a bath?”

“Not if that means we have to get up,” Will mumbled, burrowing into Hannibal’s neck how he was denied previously.

Hannibal chuckled and put one arm under Will’s knees and the other around his back and stood up effortlessly, evoking a surprised grunt from Will. Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and let go only when Hannibal pried them off as he tried to stand up again after lowering Will onto the bed.

“I’ll be right back, my darling,” said the soft voice in his ear before Hannibal disappeared down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Thanks for reading :)


	9. Chapter 9

The bathroom was infused with a calming scent Will couldn’t place, coming from something Hannibal put in the tub as it filled with warm water. It was unsurprising Hannibal had found some opportunity to stock Will’s bathroom with products, as he had with the kitchen. Will sat on the edge of the bathtub, where Hannibal began to undress him, giving him a sly smile at the semen remaining on his stomach and staining his shirt. He laid a kiss on each of Will’s shoulders once he removed the shirt, one on each of his thighs after removing his pants and boxers, before he used a warm washcloth to wipe down his stomach. He neatly folded each item after it was removed and set it on the sink counter, and Will wondered what the point of that was considering they’d need to go in the wash immediately, but he said nothing. Taking Will’s hand, Hannibal led him to stand and then lower himself into the tub, one leg at a time.

The water was just the right temperature, and Will had to admit that whatever Hannibal had put in it felt smooth and caused his skin to tingle pleasantly. He shut his eyes and lowered himself all the way to sit down. Will was about to thank Hannibal before he heard more sliding of fabric. He opened his eyes enough to see Hannibal already staring back at him, sliding his belt out of the loops and removing his pants again. The heat in his gaze, more oppressive than that of the water, and the realization of his intentions caused Will to look away, hoping his chest and cheeks had already gone pink due to the heat prior to their eye contact.

Will heard Hannibal remove his shirt from where it hung on his shoulders and the depositing of his clothes next to Will’s before the man approached.

“May I?”

Will nodded quickly and shifted forward to make space without looking directly at Hannibal.

Hannibal slid into the tub with far too much grace for a man of his size and they fit far too comfortably for two grown men in a bathtub meant for one. He sighed and shifted Will’s hips so that his thighs could cushion them and lightly tugged Will’s back to meet his chest. The water displacement rose to warm Will’s pecs now, and he could tell that the amount had been planned to accommodate both of them.

Hannibal’s hands were suddenly everywhere on Will, and he couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of the smooth palms and rough calluses on his fingertips brushing over his ribs, down his forearms, grazing his thighs, and how they simultaneously soothed him and left a flaming trail behind them. He knew he was gasping, felt it in his chest and in his throat, but the only sound he could hear was Hannibal’s even breath in his left ear, annoyingly unaffected.

When Hannibal teased his tongue behind Will’s earlobe, he turned his head, angling his ear and craning his neck closer to the alluring mouth, and Hannibal moaned softly in appreciation, offering a nip in exchange. He nosed softly behind the ear and moved his mouth down to graze his lips over the proffered neck, trailing up and down it until decisively landing on a spot below his jaw and sucking.

“I’m afraid to tell you how long I wished I could have you like this,” Hannibal groaned, the tone rumbling against Will’s neck.

Will whimpered and pressed his palm down onto his cock, not wanting to show how easily the words affected him.

“I’d keep you here for hours if you let me. Just look at you and watch you come undone at my touch. Always light and never enough to give you what you want.”

Will held back a moan, “I’d turn into a prune. You wouldn’t like touching me when I’m all wrinkly, would you?”

Hannibal chuckled and bit the spot on his neck suddenly, and the moan came spilling out.

“Fuck… how am I going to explain it if that leaves a mark?”

“It certainly will now. Who would you be exposing your neck to, other than me, if you are not going to work? Is there someone else offering you their care?” Will gasped as Hannibal sucked again on his neck, the spot now painfully tender.

“Jack, for starters. He’s coming to bring me the Hobbs file tomorrow.”

A growl rippled from Hannibal’s chest to Will’s back pressed up against it. “Let him see it. He can draw his own conclusions. I’m quite certain I’m the last person he’d suspect responsible.”

“He _is_ painfully straight.”

Hannibal hummed and dragged one hand through Will’s curls, watching them react as he wet them. “I don’t like hiding my regard for you, Will.”

He was met with silence as Will thought about how they could go on like this, hiding what was rapidly approaching the realest relationship he’d ever had. Somehow he hadn’t considered that it could last as long as it already had. Surely it would end once Hannibal had had enough of him, had seen him come undone underneath him and bared his soul in a way he didn’t in therapy. They could wait until then, and then they wouldn’t have to tell anyone.

“I can hear you thinking. I will find a way for us to reveal our relationship. I don’t want you to worry yet. I am more than content to have you to myself, don’t misunderstand that.”

Will frowned at Hannibal’s misunderstanding, glad he couldn’t see his reaction. He knew that even if Hannibal didn’t know it, he would grow tired of Will soon enough. The appeal would wear off. It pained him to imagine watching the way Hannibal looked at him change over time, as it had with everyone else, slowly, so that they could hardly remember what they used to feel for him.

What Will didn’t know was that Hannibal could smell his distress, especially with how close he was. It was resigned hopelessness, tinged with bitterness of unfavorable remembrance. He was charmed by the intricacies of the scent, in the way only Will could charm him.

“I appear to have made an error. Will, please tell me what is on your mind.”

Will sighed. “It’s nothing, Hannibal.”

He decided to push. “You are displeased with something I said.”

“No.”

“Something I did?”

“No. Just drop it, please.”

“Communication is paramount to any relationship, Will, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you unsatisfied,” his voice was softer, a final warning.

“Not now, okay?”

Hannibal exhaled slowly. “Alright.”

They didn’t speak as they finished washing in the bath, and they didn’t speak as they toweled off. Will _knew_ this was the beginning. He would alienate Hannibal to spare them both the deterioration of Hannibal’s feelings. He felt it like a sick knot in his stomach. He just hoped they could remain friends and that Hannibal wouldn’t resent him for the time he had already taken out of his life to care for him.

So, when Hannibal changed not into his suit, but into a new pair of underwear and a pair of silk pants he produced from the bag he brought with him, Will was stunned.

“What are you doing?”

Hannibal pulled the pants all the way up and paused, his face betraying nothing but calm. “Dressing for bed. Is it alright if I stay? If I shouldn’t have presumed, I apologize.”

“I… you want to stay with me?”

Hannibal flashed him a small smile. “You know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

“I… guess so. You’re not mad at me?”

Hannibal tutted and crossed the room. “Of course not, Will. We have all the time in the world to discuss things. I shouldn’t have pushed you to share when you didn’t want to.” He carefully lifted his hand to cup Will’s cheek, and Will leaned into it slightly, searching for truth in Hannibal’s expression.

When he found nothing but affection in it, he raised his hand to mirror Hannibal’s and thumbed across his bottom lip when it parted in response to his caress.

“Hannibal…”

“All the time in the world…” 

It felt like a promise, cemented as Hannibal leaned forward to close the gap between their lips. Will stilled as he let Hannibal caress his face, then cradle his neck, letting him kiss his lips open and explore the space between them. He was still until Hannibal’s hand met his lower back and massaged circles into it, and he sighed, pressing forward and wrapping both arms around Hannibal. Every touch from Hannibal felt like reassurance, emanating vibrantly through Hannibal’s skin, covering Will’s whole body in thick layers of it.

Hannibal, having now correctly assessed the reasoning behind Will’s shutdown, was full to bursting of endearment for the man, another foreign sensation. He felt overwhelmed by the need to show Will he was cared for and by the need to crush anyone that had ever made Will feel the bitter cocktail he had smelled of resignation and heartache, though glad they had somehow led him to Hannibal.

“Take me to bed,” Will whispered against his lips.

“Gladly.”

They slipped under the covers and limbs slotted together and intertwined as the kisses resumed. The closeness made up for the sweat the extra body heat promised Will, and he felt certain there would be no nightmares involved. The kissing slowed to a halt, but they remained close, their grasps unrelenting, and Will fell asleep focused on the steady beat of Hannibal’s heart, thumping under his palm.

“My sweet Will…”

* * *

Early morning light welcomed Will from beyond his closed eyelids, and he squeezed them shut tighter. He rolled away from the light and felt the other side of the bed to find it empty. Listening closely, he heard sounds in the kitchen, as expected. He smiled and rearranged the blanket and waited for Hannibal to finish and come to get him.

Minutes later, after Will had drifted off again, Hannibal lightly shook him awake and led him to the table for breakfast. Will thought he could get used to mornings like this, with no alarm sending him to Quantico and a real breakfast waiting for him. They ate and chatted about the day to come before Hannibal left him to go to work again, with nothing more than a hand in his hair and a kiss to the forehead. Will wondered when it had gotten that easy.

Jack came not much later, in a pleasant mood at seeing Will looking well and ready to work, even if it wasn’t the work he would prefer him to be doing. Jack caught Will up about Bella’s treatment, and Will told Jack about Alana and Hannibal visiting the prior day, as if that had been the one and only highlight. If he noticed the blooming mark on Will’s neck, he didn’t say anything.

After Jack left, Will started doing research for his article. He pretty much knew already what he wanted to include, so the files mostly provided reference for if he forgot any minutia. By the time his eyes were starting to hurt from staring at his laptop screen for too long, he had a full working outline. He plopped down on his couch, took off his glasses, and called Abigail. As soon as he heard her voice, very obviously pleased to hear from him, he was glad he called. Alana had told her the short version of his brush with encephalitis, and he filled her in on the other details. Once assured of his well-being, Abigail seemed relieved and began to tell him about her own recovery as of late.

“Group therapy is growing on me, and I like talking with Dr. Bloom, but I wish I could talk to you and Hannibal more. There are some things I don’t want to talk about with anyone that… wasn’t there.”

“I’m sorry about that, Abigail. I’ll come visit you as soon as I can, and I’ll pass along the message to Hannibal.”

“Thanks. It’s just you guys are the only ones that don’t look at me with even a hint of suspicion. Even Freddie doesn’t trust me, but she wants to do the book so bad she’s willing to ignore it.”

“Don’t do the book. Don’t trust her to tell your story.”

“That’s what Hannibal said, too. I thought it would help me, at first, but I’m not sure anymore. I wish I could just start over.”

Will thought about moving to Virginia. His whole life picked up and moved across the country, no contacts left in touch. “I want to help you. We want to help you.” He paused, realizing who he meant by “we,” and considered telling her about the development in his relationship with Hannibal.

“Take care of yourself first. Get better, and don’t worry too much about me for a while.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Alright,” he smiled back. “Abigail… this might be weird to hear about, but I think I should tell you, as your guardians. Hannibal and I are together now.”

Her laugh startled Will. “Duh. I know.”

“You… know?”

“You guys aren’t exactly subtle.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “We… weren’t together the last time we saw you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No, it’s only been a couple of weeks.”

She chuckled. “Took you long enough, huh?”

Will blushed and grumbled, “I guess.”

“Aww come on! I’m a teenager, I know these things.”

“Before we knew, so kind of embarrassing. It’s fine, let’s stop talking about it.” In his shock at her reaction he nearly forgot to mention, “Oh, don’t tell anyone, though. Especially not Dr. Bloom or Freddie.”

“Why?”

“We have to sort out how to get around Dr. Bloom’s opinions on what our relationship should be. I’m still technically supposed to be in therapy with him, but since my work is on hold… I don’t know. We’ve got to figure some stuff out, but for now, I just need you to wait a bit.”

“Sure. Not like I’ve been telling everyone about my new dads. Not gonna start now.”

Will felt heat rise in his cheeks again despite himself, and he thanked Abigail and they said their goodbyes. He wondered what Hannibal would think about Abigail’s assumptions.

When the time Hannibal arrived at Will’s house the previous night came and went, Will tried not to get antsy. He kept busy by starting some laundry and working on his lures, letting the dogs out while he worked in hopes of dispelling their extra energy. When he got hungry, he hesitated before defaulting to making a sandwich and checked his phone for messages. When he didn’t have any, he checked his email as a last-ditch effort. After answering a quick message from his substitute teacher at the Academy, he tried not to be too disappointed at not having heard from Hannibal.

It was true that they hadn’t exactly discussed his plans for visiting throughout Will’s recovery, nor had they discussed his plans for this evening, but in broad terms, Will thought he understood Hannibal would be there as much as he could.

He was being stupid. He made a sandwich and ate it in bed, crumbs be damned. And if he got out his laptop to watch a stupid movie on Netflix, it wasn’t because he was waiting for anything. It was because he _wanted_ to watch the movie about the teenage ex-girlfriend who turned out to be fucking insane.

So, when Hannibal’s Bentley pulled into the driveway, Will didn’t rush to put his laptop away because he was ashamedly eager, he did to be polite. He didn’t get out of bed this time.

Hannibal used the key-- did he consider it his key now? --to enter. Noting the apprehensive look on Will’s face, Hannibal immediately addressed it. “Hello, Will. I am sorry I am much later this evening. I had some business to attend to and failed to have the foresight to let you know.”

Will studied him. “That’s alright. You’re under no obligation to be here.” Hannibal could tell he didn’t really mean it.

Hannibal crossed the room and waited for permission to step closer and touch Will. “I really didn’t expect my work to take as long as it did. It is unfortunate how this has left you feeling, especially as I suspect it was me who suffered more for the longing. I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, and as long as I am gone I ache for you.”

Will wanted to hide from the raw honesty he felt from Hannibal and the way his words threatened to claw their way into his chest and make a home there, but he forced himself to hold eye contact. When he offered a small smile, Hannibal took another step forward and raised his hand to caress Will’s cheek.

“I didn’t _suffer_ in longing,” Will whispered, leaning into Hannibal’s hand.

“Did you not, my dear? What a shame. Next time I want you to at least try. You’d think with your empathy you’d be a little more sympathetic to my feelings.”

“Hmm. I’ll need some photos from the scene next time if you want me to try and recreate your mindset.”

Hannibal pushed his hand through Will’s hair, which was attractively mussed as he had made no attempt to comb or tame it that day. “Of course. I regret that I didn’t think of that.”

Will chuckled. “So when you said you ached for me.”

“Yes?”

“Just about how literal is your hunger? Because I’ve been writing about Hobbs all day and need to know if you’re going to eat me or just eat me out.”

Hannibal’s eyes brightened and he laughed heartily, startling Will a bit with the volume. He quickly calmed it down to an acceptable laugh, and leaned in to whisper beside his ear, “I’ll have you anyway I can get you, dear Will.”

Will blushed with the arousing combination of lust and fear. Perhaps Hannibal would actually ravage him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked my attempt at a cannibal joke lmao. I think Will making a cannibal joke before knowing about Hannibal should have always been canon.
> 
> Sorry for the cliffhanger! Smut next chapter ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Will turned his head to find Hannibal’s lips and crashed his own into them. His heart pounded with anticipation when Hannibal bit sharply onto his bottom lip and crawled on top of him with no preamble. They shoved the covers away from them so that Hannibal could straddle Will, and both of Hannibal’s hands held his head firmly still as Hannibal sucked the breath out of him.

All Will found himself capable of was pawing uselessly at Hannibal’s back and hips, feeling for any part of the man underneath the layers of clothing. He whined when Hannibal bit his lip again and he felt the teeth puncture the skin, a bit of blood coming out. Hannibal lapped the drop up and groaned at the taste.

Hannibal let go of Will’s face and lifted the shirt off of him, hardly giving him time to lift his arms to accommodate the movement. Then, he was upon him, sucking and biting across the muscular chest, harsh in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be yet. Will moaned with each bite, feeling his cock swell, enjoying the pain and the unpredictability of Hannibal’s mouth.

It was like Hannibal was starving for him, hunger awakened all of a sudden, and Will was relieved to feel the same desperation he felt himself. Will’s grip on his suit over his back became tighter and angry, demanding the layers be removed so he, too, could feel skin, so Hannibal shoved off his jacket and waistcoat, launching them across the room before Will ripped the shirt buttons off. 

When Hannibal didn’t balk but growled in return, removing his shirt completely, Will bit back the apology lodged in his throat and dug his nails into Hannibal’s back, dragging them in a frenzy as soon as he felt him grind approvingly down.

“Get our pants off.”

Hannibal begrudgingly sat up and undid his pants and then Will’s and lifted himself off to remove both sets. They both moaned immediately at the pleasurable friction when their hips met again, erections grinding side by side as Hannibal slowly rolled his hips over him. Hannibal leant down to kiss him again and Will met him midway, reaching around to grab a handful of Hannibal’s ass and wind his fingers into his smooth strands. As Will squeezed and tugged, he relished the moan Hannibal let into his mouth, realizing now how much freer it sounded compared to the last time, when Will had him in his mouth.

With anger and bitterness at his previous suppression, Will chased after more of Hannibal’s sounds, experimenting with different touches on his ass, from tantalizingly light to the slow drag of his nails along the skin, full of need to hear what made Hannibal respond. Something seemed to have opened the floodgates, though, as Hannibal sounded like he loved anything Will could give him, like he was breathing air for the first time after nearly drowning, simultaneously needy and gratified.

When Hannibal couldn’t resist anymore, he broke the kiss and in one smooth motion planted himself between Will’s thighs, gripping the back of each.

“ _Fuck_ , okay.”

Will watched rapturously as Hannibal licked one long line from the crease of his hip and midsection, around his cock, and behind it. His look of determination and pleasure, gaze intently focused on Will, was incredible combined with the thin sheen of sweat on Hannibal’s forehead, his hair mussed and sticking, evidence of the effect Will had on him. Then, Hannibal started interrupting long lines with cruel sucks and kisses, making Will aware of just how much sensitive flesh he had there that he wouldn’t have thought to touch by himself. A bruising kiss on his inner thigh was enough to break off the thought process in his surprise.

“O- _oh_ , Hannibal… You get off on teasing me, don’t you…”

“It’d be a shame not to savor you, darling.”

“Fucking just- ohhh… oh god…” Hannibal licked an achingly light swipe over Will’s head, gathering the liquid there, before suddenly removing it and instead lapping over Will’s opening.

“Hann- Hannibal, you don’t actually have to- _god_ , only if you want to…” Hannibal did want to. Very much. The broad laps over his opening slowly became too little for Will, everything in him throbbing with need. He wound both hands tightly in Hannibal’s hair and pushed down. “ _Please._ ”

Then he was too short on breath to beg anymore. The laps turned into darting attacks, threatening to slide in each time, interspersed with quick circles broadening and tightening around his hole, always met with the death grip Hannibal had on his thighs, holding him up off the bed slightly. Each time Hannibal gave him more and more, and he sounded completely lost, his high, tight moans piercing the room. The way Hannibal himself was groaning like he was equally being pleasured drove Will to push his hips towards him, giving as much as he possibly could.

Hannibal took him eagerly and finally gave him even more, his tongue breaking through the first ring of muscle to make its way in. Will gasped at the entrance and how the obtrusive tongue found its way into the pattern and gasped again when it was joined by an index finger. It pushed past the tongue, inching further and further, introducing moisture as it went.

“Another, fuck,” Will gasped out.

The next finger, miraculously lubricated, joined Hannibal’s first, tongue still sliding over them, massaging him as he opened up. They scissored him, widening the tissue until he was ready for a third, which he didn’t have to ask for. A hand worked over his cock for a few strokes, and he was ready sooner than he would have thought possible.

“Hannibal, _now_. The condoms… over here.” He pointed to the bedside table only to see Hannibal look up and smirk, lifting to show a shiny wrapper already in his hand, next to the lube that had somehow found its way onto the bed. “You… fucking boy scout.”

Hannibal chuckled. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be insulting your lover if he’s about to make love to you.”

Blushing at the choice of words, Will groaned back, rude and impatient as ever, “God, get on with it. You knew what you signed up for.”

“I did, indeed.” Hannibal grinned and ripped open the wrapper, holding one end in his teeth and maintaining his dark gaze into Will.

Will moaned in anticipation and reached forward after Hannibal rolled the condom on to help slick up Hannibal’s cock, appreciatively feeling its thickness and memorizing how empty he felt now, before.

Hannibal let him hold his cock, pleased at the man’s obvious fascination with it until Will laid back down and raised his legs. He pushed them further apart, and lined himself up with Will’s entrance. He waited, capturing Will in detail underneath him before pushing in.

Will watched Hannibal scan him, his mouth agape, eyes darting quickly over his figure. Will felt his chest and face, already flushed bright red from excitement, but he was somewhat aware what kind of a picture he must look like, debauched and ready, knees up by his ribs, and he knew exactly what Hannibal was doing.

“Breathtaking,” Hannibal sighed, appropriately breathless, as he pushed forward. They gasped together at their joining, and Hannibal took one hand from Will’s thigh and offered it to him. Will accepted, trying to smile as well as he could with his mouth wide open. He squeezed it, wordlessly giving his consent to keep going, and Hannibal moved. Every inch filled Will to bursting and somehow Hannibal kept going, how he had more to give Will was at a loss, until Hannibal’s hips met the back of his thighs.

Both caught their breath and adjusted to the feeling. Will had never been so full before and it felt appropriate that Hannibal was the only person that could fill him this much.

“I… you feel so good, Hannibal…”

As he opened his eyes and met Hannibal’s, inches away, he realized too late tears had formed. He scolded himself and turned his head to the side, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand that wasn’t entwined with Hannibal’s.

“You’re a dream, Will,” Hannibal reassured him, “I can’t imagine anything else bringing a fraction of the bliss I feel right now.”

Hannibal kissed the moisture gathered at his eyelashes and waited for Will to return his gaze. Will slowly turned his head back and searched for sincerity, again finding nothing but admiration, and something… strong. Something he couldn’t-- wouldn’t --name.

He sighed, “Okay. Move now. Please.”

Hannibal dragged his cock slowly back, and then forward again, pulling further back each time. When Will’s sighs turned to moans, Hannibal picked up speed, still indulging in long thrusts where he could feel every bit of Will’s supplicant friction. Hannibal peppered Will with kisses along his neck and chest, maintaining just enough focus to keep his movements soft and smooth for the moment.

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal sighed his name reverently. “My Will.”

Will groaned, suddenly overwhelmed by the tenderness and with the need to replace it with passion. He could only stand to hear Hannibal say his name again if it was only because other words failed him. He squeezed Hannibal’s hand fiercely and scratched long lines down his back.

“Hannibal, just fuck me already.”

The cord that was Hannibal’s restraint snapped and he growled and shortened his thrusts, picking up speed and slamming into Will. He leaned back slightly and moved his hand from the bruising grip on Will’s thigh to support him underneath his ass, raising his hip slightly. The change in angle worked exactly as expected, and the brushed bundle of nerves sent Will into a series of breathy pants and whimpers that did nothing to slow Hannibal down.

“ _Will_.”

Having gotten exactly what he asked for, Will threw back his head and focused on nothing but the sounds, his own, Hannibal’s, and the obscene slapping of their hips meeting on the downthrust. He tensed experimentally around Hannibal’s cock, trying to draw him in and keep him glued to his prostate. He was more or less successful, as Hannibal groaned, and drew back for longer, more forceful movements at the same speed, pounding incessantly into Will’s prostate harder now. The foreplay had brought him tantalizingly close, and this was the nail in the coffin.

“Oh, Jesus,” Will gasped, hoping it would be enough warning.

Hannibal continued as if Will had said nothing, still holding Will by the hand and the curve of his ass. Regardless of his cock remaining untouched, the thing he felt but couldn’t name from Hannibal still reverberated in him, and the pressure building low in Will’s stomach curled tightly into a knot until it burst, waves of pleasure sent up and down his body as his release spurted out onto his stomach.

Hannibal groaned louder than ever at Will pulsating around his cock through his orgasm, and kept up his speed, chasing after his own release. The sight of Will, completely undone and filled with pleasure, filled with _him_ , the knowledge that he had Will, so fully and openly, overpowered his senses and his need to claim the man reared to its head as he came, pumping several more times before stopping at his hilt, the sensation of fullness still tangible as Hannibal filled the condom with his come.

As he finished, Hannibal repeated Will’s name breathily, determined to keep his eyes open, so he could keep looking at the delectable sight beneath him.

He leaned down to kiss the equally lost man, bruisingly forceful with passion. Will whimpered at the press of Hannibal’s teeth against his lips, and Hannibal eventually transitioned into a soft, languorous kiss.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal sighed between kisses, as he slid out of Will’s heat and tied off the condom.

“Don’t thank me,” Will chuckled. “That makes me feel dirty, like you paid me for your pleasure.”

“Then I am at a loss for how to express my gratitude to you.”

Hannibal lapped up the come from Will’s stomach and rolled over to lay next to him, humming with pleasure as Will curled up into him.

“You don’t need to be grateful. You can just say you enjoyed it.”

“Oh, Will. Joy does not even begin to cover it.”

Will blushed and pinched Hannibal’s stomach. “Alright, alright, I get it. You already got me in bed, no need to keep up the flattery.”

“It’s not flattery,” Hannibal protested, “And you like it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Will.” He turned and cupped Will’s cheek, forcing him to hold his gaze. “I am afraid to tell you this, but I am more afraid to hold it in any longer.”

Will gulped and stared back at him.

“You are _everything_. There are no other words. As charming as your insecurity is, I will not have you be harboring any doubts about where you stand with me.”

Will’s breath hitched.

Again, he felt nothing but sincerity. The intensity of the confession scared him. It scared him how much he wanted it to be true.

He knew he couldn’t possibly respond.

Thankfully, Hannibal didn’t seem to be expecting a response. He released his face and laid his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes with the hint of a smile on his lips. Will slowly lowered his head back onto Hannibal’s chest, and his mind raced faster than his heart could beat. He thought about Beverly, telling him about a man (Willard Wigan, was it?) who could work between the beats of his heart. If that wasn’t what he was doing, then it certainly approximated the feeling.

“Um.”

“Yes, Will?”

Will paused, not sure if he meant to speak at all. He scrambled for something to say.

“I, uh, I spoke to Abigail today. I told her about us.”

Hannibal made a pleased sound, chest rumbling under Will’s ear. “Very well. I believe her to be trustworthy.”

“She… she said she knew. She thought we’d been together the whole time.”

Hannibal smiled. “Clever girl.”

Will let out an exasperated sigh. Of course Hannibal wasn’t put off by that. 

“Hannibal. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, darling.”

“Could you possibly walk the dogs before we go to sleep?” His voice was small and nervous.

Hannibal laughed, “Sure. I will make sure they are thoroughly exhausted.” He kissed Will’s head and rolled out of bed. He gathered his pants and a sweater he brought in his bag, put on his shoes, and shrugged on his coat before whistling to the dogs and releasing them through the front door.

Will watched them go and sighed after the door closed. He was still on bedrest and had hardly done anything that day, but he was exhausted. Even when they had sex, he had just laid back and gotten fucked. Though Hannibal had said ‘make love.’ But people just say that. It’s just a flowery way of saying the same thing… Right.

Will let his eyes flutter closed and he washed away his thoughts with the sounds of the stream as he imagined himself wading in.

* * *

Hannibal came back inside with the dogs a while later and led them to resettle by the fireplace before locking the door behind him. He saw Will was asleep and smiled. He moved to ready himself for bed to join Will, but once done, he opted to sketch the sleeping man first. He pulled the armchair to a better angle to capture Will’s face from a few feet away, and he wondered if he could get away with sketching him again in the morning light. Will had fallen asleep in approximately the same position he had been in when Hannibal was still in bed, curls mussed over his forehead the hint of a sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip. He imagined himself cradling Will, as he would when he joined him, and the image was deemed pleasing enough to add to the drawing.

Hannibal finished sketching enough to return to it at a later date and he put his materials away again. He remained in the armchair and dwelled on his moments with Will earlier in the evening. He was still exhilarated by the new feelings Will brought him, but he worried he had made them known too early, scaring off the man before he even had an opportunity to reciprocate, let alone given the chance to gather all the information. He knew that would take time, but Will was on the right course. Hannibal just couldn’t seem to control himself around the man, and that was as unnerving as it was exciting.

He would continue as planned and hope Will would remain reassured instead of overwhelmed. Will would discover him. Soon he would see him, know him, and he would still like what he saw.

* * *

“Hannibal?”

“Yes?”

“We need to discuss how we’re going to continue doing this without hiding it.”

They sat at Will’s dining table, eating breakfast.

Hannibal set down his fork and knife. “My records should show that our relationship was purely professional when I conducted your psychological evaluation. Additionally, Alana or other guests should be able to corroborate that we were not romantically involved prior to my dinner party, though that should hardly matter.”

“Your… records?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of records?”

“My written account of thoughts and events. Journal entries.”

“... We’re going to use your diary as evidence?”

Hannibal grimaced. “Journal, Will. Not a diary.”

“Right. You think that’ll be admissible?” Will laughed.

“I can’t see why it wouldn’t be. The alternative is relying solely on the interpretation of our relationship from an outside perspective, as I can hardly prove I wasn’t courting you before. Will, if they suspect negligence, we could both get in trouble for allowing you into the field.”

Will huffed. “Fine. So what? We’re just going to come out and tell everyone we know, ‘Hey we’re dating! It’s totally fine by the way, we have proof that we’re not breaking any ethical considerations!’”

“Certainly there is no need to make any sort of announcement. We will just cease to hide it, and we will invite Jack and Alana over for dinner.”

Will balked. “You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

“We’re going to have a coming out dinner? With Alana and Jack? Tell them, ‘Mom, Dad, we’re gay’?!” Will gestured hysterically. “What makes you think telling them together is any better than telling them alone? They’re going to rip us a new one!”

“They will _not_. Jack’s presence will pacify Alana, and I suspect Jack will be stunned more than anything, as we have given him no reason to think our relationship impacted your work. Your encephalitis provides for any plausible deniability.”

“Jesus,” Will huffed. He looked down at his plate as a distraction and caught his breath. “Maybe you’re right. It’s gonna be a weird dinner no matter how you look at it, though.”

“Perhaps. I see it as our best option for breaking the news, as both of them will be relaxed at my table, neither wanting to be rude as my company, and their partnership will keep them from feeling cornered by us, as well as keep their reactions manageable.”

Will knew logically that made sense, but couldn’t help envisioning both Jack and Alana towering over him, threatening to take his and Hannibal’s jobs away, like scolding parents. He sighed and dug back into his breakfast. “Alright. I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing keeps getting longer and longer… I promise there is a lot more plot to go but wow it turns out I quite like writing smut, and if I stuck to my original plan for the events in chapters, they’d end up being like 10k long lol :) Thanks for being along for the ride with me!


	11. Chapter 11

The days over the next several weeks passed with Will working on his article, making lures, and spending ample time with his dogs. And Hannibal, of course. For the duration of Will’s recovery, Hannibal had practically moved in. He went to work as usual but rarely returned home.

Will had gotten accustomed to Hannibal smelling him, frequently and often at odd moments. He would gaze at Will with a mixture of fondness and curiosity, lean in and return to his line of sight with a faraway look. The first time Will asked him what he smelled like, he received an unkind lecture about his aftershave. He was not surprised when it was stolen, naturally replaced with something assuredly much more expensive, along with the matching cologne and body lotion. But, he used it and didn’t say anything about it. The next time he asked Hannibal what he smelled like, he learned not to do it again unless he was in the mood for a poetic monologue about his natural musk and its endless appeal.

When it happened during sex one time, it was as Hannibal was kissing his way down Will’s abdomen and he paused and inhaled deeply at his stomach. Hannibal opened his eyes and with a very blank look on his face, informed him, “Will, it appears you forgot to wash your belly button.”

Will was too mortified and confused to think about how oddly charming it was to hear the doctor use the colloquial term, compounded when Hannibal continued to kiss his way down Will before taking his cock in his mouth as if nothing unusual had happened. After that, Will made sure to take long, thorough showers, methodically washing every part of himself he could think of until it became routine.

In turn, Hannibal had gotten accustomed to Will’s “classic rock” music, as he was informed it was called. He learned to tune it out as needed while they worked individually. Although, it didn’t help his efficiency that Will irritatingly yet endearingly felt the need to tap something-- his foot, his pen, his fingers --to the beat of every single song. Each time Hannibal got the urge to ask Will to stop, he’d look up and see the man, hard at work, bobbing his head back and forth and causing his curls to bounce about. Of course, Hannibal would smile, his glance remaining unnoticed, and return to his work. If he had somehow memorized all the lyrics of some band inexplicably called Pink Floyd, then it was purely accidental, and not out of some absurd need to prepare in case he needed to impress Will some day.

Will was healing and feeling much better. He was planning on returning to work after the coming weekend. Saturday they would be going on their second official date to the opera again, a result of Hannibal’s prompting and Will’s indifference. Considering it’d been well over a month now, it was strange that this would only be their second date. They had seemingly skipped most of the courtship to jump right into what was absolutely the most domestic relationship either of them had ever been in.

Will’s recovery also allowed them to make plans to have dinner with Jack and Alana the following week. When Will stood over Hannibal’s shoulder for several minutes, watching him drag pen across paper into elegant lines on each envelope and letter, Hannibal felt a quiet sense of pride. It was burst when Will asked why he didn’t just email them.

Since they had stopped hiding their relationship-- at least from anybody other than Jack and Alana --when Beverly dropped by, they didn’t feel the need to pretend Hannibal was also visiting by some coincidence.

“You’re lucky, you know that?”

Will’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“You have a boyfriend and got to stay home with him for three weeks while we kept chasing killers across the country,” Beverly answered bluntly.

Will flushed and looked towards the kitchen, where Hannibal was preparing a charcuterie tray to present to their guest. “I mean… he does still go to work…”

Beverly snorted, “I’m sure it was agony to stay home and do nothing the whole time.”

“I worked!” Will defended himself, but relented, mentally acknowledging he _had_ had the best sex of his life every day for weeks. _Every_ damn day. “But you’re right. He’s… great.”

“You seem happy. I’m happy for you. Just bitter and jealous, too,” she said with a laugh and a soft smile.

Will laughed. “I’d offer some dating advice, but I honestly have no idea what I’d say. As you said. I’m just lucky.”

“Don’t worry about it. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that. Just hard to nab one that’s both interesting and interested in you enough to put up with morbid talk about our work.”

Will hummed, pleased with the knowledge that he’d caught such a rare fish that didn’t consider him either a freak or a research subject. He could share his thoughts-- just about all of them --with his catch.

“Yes, best to find someone who is already well-acquainted with humanity for all its beauty and ugliness,” Hannibal mused as he entered, bearing an extravagant tray of food, much too excessive for only three people. “Like a psychiatrist.”

He smirked at Will as he set the tray down on the table between his chair and Beverly’s.

“Thing with psychiatrists, though, is they can see right through you,” Will teased, reaching out for Hannibal’s hand and intertwining it with his. “No hiding.”

Hannibal held his hand and smiled, but Will thought he saw the corners of his lips twitch minutely. _What was that?_ Forcing a smile, he continued, “Plus, our only date so far has been to the opera, and guess where we’re going again this weekend?”

“You told me you enjoyed it last time.”

“We’ll see if that was a fluke,” Will released Hannibal’s hand, realizing they hadn’t really let Beverly speak. “Do you like the opera?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been.”

“Perhaps you’d like to join us sometime? I would be more than happy to procure you a ticket, as I’m sure one of these days Will will tire of me.”

Beverly blushed, glancing between them and looking the most anxious Will had seen her. “Oh, no. I couldn't intrude on your date.”

Will grinned, pleased at the idea of her suffering and sarcastic commentary. “Please, you’d be no intrusion, _Bev_.”

Beverly just barely hid her scowl at him from Hannibal.

Will’s grin widened as he continued, “In fact, I think I know someone that might be more than happy to go with you.”

“If Will is referring to the woman I believe he is, you wouldn’t find a better date among my acquaintance.”

Beverly adopted her favorite skeptical face and watched for any sign of ire between them. She found none, but was unsure how to feel about getting set up by these two weirdos. Or by anyone.

“Right… maybe someday.”

But of course, Will knew very well that both he and Hannibal would be relentless about it until she gave in. Will found himself excited at the prospect of having another normal person at the opera with him, and at the idea of becoming closer friends with Beverly, probably the only person he knew that he felt that way about. Hannibal, too, respected her and was surely planning double dates already.

They had mercy on Beverly and continued chatting without forcing her to make any promises, and when she left, they resumed their subdued late evening activities.

* * *

Will had tried to quit stealing glances at Hannibal, where he sat in the armchair by the fireplace, absently petting Buster and reading Will’s draft. Tried and failed. He couldn’t help it, no matter how little Hannibal’s features betrayed his thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, he’d catch a microexpression that could clue him into what Hannibal was thinking.

But, Hannibal was stoic as ever until he had finished, and he closed Will’s laptop carefully before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Well? What do you think? I know it’s not quite there yet, and that I have a lot of revising to do, but I’d value your opinion. Especially as someone that knows the case about as well as I do,” Will chattered away before Hannibal could say anything.

Hannibal uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair. “I think your article is well done.”

“... That’s it?”

“I can give you more detailed notes, if you’d like, but overall, I believe that your article is very well-written and thought-out for the stage it is in, and I would be unsurprised to see it published. Many will benefit from the story of Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

Will relaxed. Hannibal didn’t think the article was uninteresting. Or too snarky. He’d been told that before.

“Oh. Okay, yes. I’d like your notes.”

“I will put them to paper and share them with you another time, if you don’t mind,” Hannibal moved to join Will at the couch, and their knees touched as he settled into it. “I am curious: Do you still see Mr. Hobbs, Will?” 

Will huffed and leaned away. “No, I don’t.”

“So this article is not a manifestation of that which occupies your darkest thoughts? Or are your thoughts otherwise occupied?” Hannibal asked, undeterred by Will’s recoil.

From the other end of the couch where he reclined as far as possible without getting up and moving, Will was growing increasingly uncomfortable in his skin. “No, Hannibal. My darkest thoughts have actually been quite forgiving lately. Maybe they saw I was sick. Maybe they’ve been on sick leave, too.” The attempted laugh was a forced, uncomfortable sound.

“Do you fear what will happen when you return to work? Has this, the article, this hiatus, been a distraction from the inevitable?”

Will scoffed, feeling more bitter than he had in weeks. “What are you suggesting happens when I go back to work?”

“Everything. All that ailed you before the encephalitis is still waiting for you to come back, Will. I’m asking if you are ready for that,” Hannibal replied in his therapist voice.

“I’m not going back to work for Jack, at least not immediately. I can more than handle the cases I teach about,” Will snapped.

“I worry Jack will come to you the first chance he gets. If not for a new case, then for the Chesapeake Ripper,” Hannibal reached out to place an arm on Will’s leg, slowly enough Will could stop him if he wanted to. He didn’t. “Do you think about the Ripper often?”

Will froze, diverting his gaze to the hand now on his knee.

“I- yes. When I’m thinking about work.”

“Even when you were focused on Garret Jacob Hobbs?” Hannibal moved his thumb slowly over Will’s kneecap, which suddenly had all of Will’s attention.

“Yes. I imagine what he would think of Hobbs. I wonder what he must think about me,” Will spoke quietly, feeling caught.

“You imagine he thinks about you?” The voice that came was rough.

“Yes.”

Hannibal’s eyes were glittering, but Will was locked on his hand on his leg. “What suggests he has an opinion of you? Freddie Lounds?”

“Yes.”

“Do you imagine he thinks she is right about you? That he thinks you are a killer?” The circles Hannibal drew on Will’s knee kept swirling, as his thoughts began to as well.

“I- I don’t know.”

“How would it make you feel if you had taken his notice?”

Will inhaled sharply and the stillness of his breath set his mind spinning in the opposite direction like a top. He didn’t know what Hannibal was trying to get at, but surely there was no way that he knew how Will would answer truthfully. He hadn’t said anything to reveal the way he saw the Ripper’s crimes, had he? Will racked his brain for any other conversations they’ve had about the Ripper. 

Will wouldn’t have told Hannibal. Even when he was sick, he couldn’t have.

He couldn’t tell him. Hannibal would not think the Ripper’s crimes were beautiful.

Will cleared his throat, his voice breaking through the thickness of his approaching lie. There was no way for him to explain the truth. “Afraid.”

“Afraid of the Ripper?”

“Yes,” Will made a conscious effort to breathe deeply before he continued. “He would either admire or despise me, if he cared. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t survive either.”

Hannibal hummed. “The Ripper has not shown himself capable of admiration. You think that you would interest him, more than people who admit to and enjoy killing?”

“I admitted to killing Garret Jacob Hobbs. And enjoying it.”

“To me.”

“Yes.”

Hannibal slowly removed his hand. Will’s gaze remained locked on his own knee, where the circles he traced had been.

“Will,” Hannibal said, softer now, coaxing Will to meet his eyes. “Do you remember I told you about my sister?”

“Mischa. Yes.” Will brought his stormy blues up to see Hannibal’s eyes, glistening and darker than usual.

“When I was a young man, she was… murdered.”

Will saw the formation of tears in Hannibal’s eyes, felt the pain there, as he continued, “We had been orphaned, and it was some time before my aunt and uncle could retrieve us. She- …we were vulnerable.”

“I- I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

Hannibal let a tear fall. He moved his hand to Will’s cheek and cupped it softly. Will leaned into the warm, textured fingers and released the tension in his shoulders.

Before speaking again, Will sighed and shut his eyes. “You’re telling me this… now… why?” He flinched at how cruel that sounded, but hoped Hannibal would understand what he meant.

“I think you can guess why, Will.”

Will’s eyes shot open and he huffed a soft breath. Hannibal smoothed over his bottom lip as they parted. “You killed them?”

“One of them. Yes,” he answered in a low voice.

“And you…”

“Liked it. It was vengeful, angry. Immature. But it felt good. Not joyous, but good.”

Will leaned forward slowly until his head rested on Hannibal’s shoulder. He breathed softly on Hannibal’s neck as he wrapped an arm around the other side. He pressed a slow kiss to Hannibal’s neck and Hannibal stilled. His breathing was thin and tense as Will combed his fingers through the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Will, I…”

But Hannibal didn’t know what to say. He had briefly considered the possibility of this reaction, but he had expected Will to react with far less tenderness. Far more alarming, Hannibal was extraordinarily unprepared for his own reaction to Will.

“Thank you,” Will whispered, his breath against Hannibal raising goosebumps along his spine.

Whatever objection Hannibal was going to make was lost. He shuddered a sigh and melted in Will’s arms, and another tear materialized then fell, disappearing into Will’s locks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry the chapter count keeps going up haha, but I hope you don’t mind. I want to do this story right and that means letting what needs to happen happen, even if I’m going to be writing this longer than I expected.
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys so so much for reading! Comments are super appreciated, as well as anything you’re comfortable with :)


	12. Chapter 12

Outside the Wolf Trap house, it was a dark and clear night as Will stood outside with his dogs. He tossed sticks to them when they were brought back, watching with uncharacteristic detachment as they scrambled over one another. Eventually, something like four or five sticks were in the rotation, one or two lost at a time as the dogs searched in the snow.

One stick was particularly flexible, and Will was able to fling it much further than the others. It landed at the edge of the tree line, and a few dogs chased after it before abruptly coming to a halt several yards away.

From the dark thicket of trees, out stepped the black feathered stag. Its thunderous steps seemed to send vibrations through the ground, all the way to where Will was standing. It slowly strode toward him, followed cautiously by the dogs. Winston stood protectively by Will’s left leg and growled as the stag approached. Will extended his hand towards it and Winston snarled, but Will paid him no mind. The stag huffed, issuing a cloud of condensation with its breath, and Will placed his fingers on its snout before slowly stroking towards its head.

Winston moved half of himself in front of Will protectively as the other dogs greeted the new member of their pack with dancing paws and excited yips. Will felt like they had had enough play time.

They made their way to the house with Will in the lead, dogs bounding their last hurrah in the snow before filing in through the door. They meandered around the dog beds and cushions, fighting for a spot close to the fireplace. Winston backed inside, watching the stag intently before it also came through, with slow thudding steps. After all of the animals were on Will’s side of the door, he shut it.

The crash of the door against its frame woke him and he sat up swiftly. He looked to the door to find no one at it and most of the dogs still laying sleepily in the living room. Realizing he was panting loudly, Will inhaled slowly and strained his ears to hear the clack of the other dogs’ nails somewhere else in the house and exhaled relief as he detected it in the kitchen, from which he also heard footsteps.

“Will? Are you alright?” Hannibal came through the doorway to see Will in all his sweaty nightmare glory, face wearing a look of alarm matching Will’s own.

“You’re… here.”

Hannibal’s expression relaxed to puzzlement. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?” He approached Will and sat at the edge of the bed.

“No, I… thought I heard the door, I guess. Must have dreamt it.”

Hannibal leaned forward to rest the back of his hand on Will’s forehead. He frowned slightly and announced, “You’re a bit warm, but not feverish.”

Will shuffled backwards slightly, putting himself just out of reach. “Yeah I just… need to take a shower. I just got hot, nothing new. Nothing to worry about.” Before he gave Hannibal any time to reply, Will had whipped the blankets back and was speeding into the bathroom.

Eyes followed Will’s hurried escape and ears heard the click of the lock, which Will hardly used during Hannibal’s extended stay. The message was clear, but the reasoning behind it was anything but, to Hannibal. He watched shadows under the door dance for a moment before looking back to the bed. Will’s pillow was slightly damp from sweat, and Hannibal lowered himself to its level, and with his nose an inch away, deeply inhaled the aroma there. He was displeased to confirm that the heady scent was fear.

An hour later, Will emerged from the bathroom and joined Hannibal in the kitchen, looking clean and relaxed, if not content. Hannibal stifled a frown. If Will wanted to pretend everything was alright, there wasn’t much Hannibal could do to coax him into talking, knowing he would only be rewarded with Will’s anger for his trouble.

“Join me for breakfast?” Hannibal asked, nonchalance practiced and effortless as he plated food in anticipation of Will’s answer.

“Sounds great, thank you.”

Will finished getting the utensils and glasses and set the table, as had become his habit. Hannibal set down their plates and they sat down, both ignoring any suggestion that this morning had been anything out of the ordinary.

“Still feeling up to visit Abigail?”

Will hummed with a mouthful, chewing before responding, “Yeah. It’s about time. I feel bad leaving her alone there for so long.”

“Alana and I have still been making regular visits, but I understand. She is just as anxious to see you.” Hannibal cast him a look with twinkling eyes.

Will grinned, and the wholeheartedness in it made Hannibal wonder if he was overestimating Will’s nightmare and the fear he smelled. He couldn’t help but hope Will wasn’t hiding something from him now. That would surely be reverse progress.

“I’m flattered to have been a subject of conversation,” Will teased. “Just promise not to say or do anything in front of her that will harm her teenage sensibilities.”

“What could I possibly do that would accomplish that? You say that like I will embarrass her. Or you, I can’t tell.”

“Either. Or both. All I’m saying is I happen to be the reigning authority on how embarrassing you are. Just don’t kiss me or do anything she’ll need to purge from her memory.”

Hannibal scoffed. “As if I’ve ever embarrassed you. You’ve hardly set foot outside of this house for me to do such a thing,” he griped, but amusement crept into his voice.

“Yet,” Will said with a wink. “I don’t know, Hannibal. Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. I _can_ be pretty irresistible.”

Hannibal made a show of rolling his eyes, a gesture he never would have predicted himself picking up, even ironically. “I don’t disagree, but I think I can hold it in while in the company of our surrogate daughter.”

* * *

And for all the teasing Will had gotten up to during breakfast and their car ride, with Will thrumming with energy at his first outing in weeks, finding himself magnetically pulled to Hannibal’s thighs and hands, distracting the driver thoroughly, Hannibal managed to resist Will in the company of Abigail.

Port Haven Psychiatric Hospital seemed an impenetrable fortress, much more desolate-looking alone on the hill in the snowy weather than it had been in the sunnier months before. Will frowned at it as they approached; it seemed like exactly the sort of place he did not want to find himself.

They met Abigail in the common room, in a corner with some semblance of privacy, it unfortunately being too cold for a leisurely stroll through the greenhouse.

Past pleasantries and assurances of good health, it became clear to Will that something was weighing heavily on Abigail, something on the tip of her tongue and in the front of her mind.

“Will,” Abigail said hesitantly, face partially obscured by dark hair that had fallen when she tucked her chin to her chest. “I have to tell you something.”

She looked up at him, and then Hannibal, pushing her hair back behind her ear. Will followed her gaze. “Just me?”

She nodded and Hannibal placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “Hannibal knows. Promise you’ll give me a chance to explain?”

Will tried to wipe the concern off his face and give her a soft smile. “Of course, Abigail.” He flashed another look at Hannibal, confusion answered only with a nod redirecting him towards her.

She took a deep breath, and Will watched her chest expand and deflate before she took a quick glance around the room and spoke. “I did kill Nick Boyle.”

Will took in a sharp breath and forced himself to wait.

“It _was_ self-defense. At first, at least. It went past that,” she said, voice hurried, but much too placid to have not been rehearsed, Will thought. 

“Hannibal was there.” She looked up at the man with his hand on her shoulder, breaking eye contact with Will before returning to him. “It was too far to make a solid case for self-defense.”

Will tried to keep his voice as even as possible. “What happened to him? The… body.”

“Hannibal helped me hide it.”

Will unintentionally shot daggers at Hannibal before closing his eyes. Shock, he guessed, was the feeling he felt. He opened his eyes again to meet Hannibal’s, locked gazes with the man he had spent the majority of the last several weeks with. He imagined him, carrying a limp body and depositing it into the trunk of his car. Then, immaculately dressed while covered in dirt as he dug a hole and hoisted Nicholas Boyle into it. All but the dirt was surprisingly easy to envision.

“Tell me why?” Will choked out.

“I told you, it wouldn’t be classified as-”

“Not that. Tell me… remind me… why I should be okay with this.”

Will met Abigail’s eyes again and flinched at the way he knew her frown mirrored his. Hannibal touched the inside of his wrist where his hands lay clasped together on his knees.

“Will. As one of Abigail’s protectors, I feel an obligation to ensure her a life as free from scrutiny as possible. There is only so much we can do for the creation of a new life if Abigail is convicted of murder,” Hannibal explained calmly. “Remember that each of us has reacted on instinct in the passion of the moment. The best we can do for ourselves is to clean up the pieces and move on.”

Hannibal did not call it a mistake. He didn’t say they each had done things they regretted. It wouldn’t be true, for any of them. He called it instinct, _passion_.

Abigail added, “You don’t have to be okay with it, and you don’t have to lie and say you are. Not for me. But, I feel safe now. I don’t have anyone I need to hide from anymore.”

Will sighed. She automatically assumed that Will would keep the secret, and he felt defeated at how he already knew she was right. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.” He didn’t voice the strange bitterness at being excluded from it for so long. He wasn’t finished processing, of course, but he knew what had to be said to put Abigail’s feelings at rest.

It was quiet for a while as Will digested the new information involving the two people he cared most about. Eventually, Hannibal and Abigail understood Will wouldn’t be rejoining the conversation any time soon and resumed talking without him.

* * *

In the car on the way back to Will’s house, Will broke his silence. “Did you know she was going to tell me today?”

“I thought she might. I encouraged her to do so.” Hannibal answered without lifting his eyes from the road.

“Guess there was no point in warning me? Or no way to.”

“No.”

He still didn’t know how to feel about Hannibal and Abigail’s composure during the conversation, the cool indifference with which they spoke of Nick Boyle’s murder. He knew that Abigail hadn’t been distraught about what happened; she was simply nervous to tell him about it. It should have felt alarming how lightly she and Hannibal spoke of it, cautious only for his sake, yet he already found himself accepting their actions as necessary. The part of Will that remembered being a cop in Louisiana, that still felt like law enforcement, was struggling to understand the larger part of him, the part that could make excuses for them, as well as for himself now that he was complicit. Before, he would have done what was technically “right” without much thought or emotional connection to the consequences.

Family was always a strange concept to Will. When it was just him and his father, the feeling he thought was love wouldn’t have been enough to lay down his life for him. His emotional connection to his father wouldn’t have swayed him from following the dull ache to do what was “right,” had he been in the same position.

Yet here Will was, conscience light and ache-free, only for Hannibal and Abigail.

Once back at the house, Will didn’t want to think about what that said about him anymore. He jumped out of the passenger seat before Hannibal had put the Bentley in park and pulled him out of it as soon as he got around to the other side.

Hannibal let Will lead him by the hand into the house, both of them ignoring dogs other than brief greetings. Will led Hannibal to the bed and wordlessly got down on his knees to remove Hannibal’s shoes and then his own. They shoved off their coats and slid underneath the covers.

Will wrapped himself around Hannibal’s back, wove their hands together in front, and hooked his chin over Hannibal’s shoulder. He let himself focus on Hannibal’s steady breathing and slowed his to mimic it.

When his thoughts had calmed down considerably, Will used a finger to turn Hannibal’s chin towards him, kissing the corner of his mouth. Hannibal turned himself in Will’s arms to face him and give him a proper kiss. Their legs slotted together as their lips found a familiar pattern. They took turns opening for one another, searching for pleasure with no urgency and sighing contentedly.

Will’s hand cupped Hannibal’s face and he parted their lips to look at him. Hannibal’s eyelids drooped with relaxation and his lips were pleasantly red and kiss-swollen. Will ran his thumb over them before kissing them again, softly and just once.

He felt more than heard the rumble in Hannibal’s chest against his as he summoned words, a quiet stream of _Will, Will, sweet Will_ as he tucked him into the crook of his neck, as close as can be.

Will sighed and kissed softly at the soft skin of Hannibal’s neck and bit his own lip before whispering, “I think I must love you.”

Hannibal’s hands clutched tight at the fabric over Will’s back.

“Oh, _Will_.”

He pulled back to gaze into Will’s eyes, pouring every emotion he could fathom into them.

“How could I do anything but love you in return?”

* * *

After a considerable portion of their afternoon was spent in bed kissing each other senseless, Will and Hannibal rose to eat and get ready for the opera that night. This time, while Hannibal had still insisted on getting Will another tux made, he was at least aware of it beforehand, and got to pick out the fabrics and colors himself. The thought was nice, despite him not having very strong opinions either way about it, and Hannibal again ended up making most of the decisions for him.

Will adorned his suit and watched Hannibal slick back his hair with pomade. He asked if it would work with his curls and Hannibal responded by lathering up more in his hands and manipulating his hair until it was more tamed and smooth than the usual manageable mess he went for at formal occasions. This time, Will wore a tux jacket in a red so deep it was only discernible in the light, paired with a black shirt, and Hannibal wore a patterned black tux jacket and a black shirt as well. Will was repeatedly told he looked “delicious,” and received torturously slow kisses along his neck and jaw for it, always falling just on the safe side of leaving a mark.

The first opera, only an hour long, was _Gianni Schicchi_ , which didn’t ring any bells to Will before it started. It was soon obvious that this one was a comedy. The previous one they had seen had comedy sprinkled in here and there, but he was surprised how humorous this one was. For every little huffed exhale through his nose, Will got a little smile from Hannibal and more rarely a light squeeze on his thigh. He could tell Hannibal was enjoying it, but Will wondered if this choice was more for his sake than Hannibal’s. Either way, Will was pleased with it.

During intermission, Will realized that the previous time they attended, Hannibal had been reserved. Or more accurately, he had been holding back his affections. Now that Will was at ease in his company and more familiar with his surroundings due to the repeat experience, Hannibal was positively flaunting Will.

The way that others boasted of their accomplishments and chewed the fat about their jobs, Hannibal spoke of Will. At first, Will was concerned that Hannibal had been too preoccupied with him and his recovery to be able to focus on work, but it became clear that he was all that Hannibal _wanted_ to talk about.

Hannibal, who Will had thought of in almost as many unsavory ways at first as pleasant ways as he does now, never thought of Hannibal as someone proud. He showed pride in many things, sure, but he thought what Hannibal possessed was class, a kind of grace. But sure enough now, he was definitely proud to be with Will, of all things.

If at all possible, he was no longer content to leave Will’s side, not even for a moment, unless he was assured Isabella was there. To keep him company, or protect him, Will wasn’t sure, but even then, he caught Hannibal eyeing him from across the room, and he blushed with the feeling of the eyes that followed his gaze, knowing they were talking about him.

“I need to know what you did to make him so happy,” Isabella told him, looking at Hannibal from across the lounge. Hannibal was smiling with his eyes, much more than the polite smile he usually employed in his present company.

Will found himself grinning at the sight and doing a poor job of hiding it as he looked back at Isabella. “I think he just missed being social. I’ve kept him locked up with only me to talk to at night for too long.”

“Oh, please,” she laughed.

Will chuckled with her as he watched Hannibal look over at them again. “Alright, maybe he’s happy to get to show me off again.”

“I’ll say. You look gorgeous.”

Will subconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, but couldn’t fight the flush that came up. Hannibal’s attentions that night had been stoking the fire building in his stomach, and he found himself eager for his return, for the next appreciative glance or touch. It was hard to focus on much else when so much of his thoughts were consumed by where Hannibal would touch him next, as if Hannibal hadn’t already touched him everywhere.

As if reading his mind, Hannibal came to join them. He slid his hand across the small of Will’s back before resting it on his hip, and Will leaned against Hannibal.

“Hello again,” Hannibal said to them with a tone of voice that was almost bubbly. “Will, have you broken the subject of Ms. Katz to Dr. Castro?”

Will lit up. “Ah! No.”

Isabella looked between them awaiting an explanation, before Will obliged, “I have a friend who I think you might get along with. You, uh, like women?”

She grinned. “Hell yes.”

“Good. Um, she’s something like a coworker. Forensics. She might be convinced to come here, though I don’t think it’s exactly her usual scene.”

“Say no more. I’m in. I get the feeling you don’t like that many people, so if you like her, I probably will, too. Even if there’s not a romantic connection, no harm done.”

“Will’s respect is high praise indeed,” Hannibal confirmed.

Will reddened despite himself. “Right, okay. I’ll get you two in touch then.”

“Thanks, Will!” Isabella gripped his bicep and shook it excitedly.

It had been a while since Will felt such a shared sense of pleasure like that with someone other than Hannibal, and he was dizzy with the feeling of it, combined with the thrumming excitement Hannibal had been filling him with. He thought he must be happier than he’s been in a long time.

* * *

Once they finished their drinks, they returned to see the last half of the performance, another short opera, this one called _Bluebeard’s Castle_. He knew the story, but he found the music eerily powerful. He was completely invested.

By the time it was over, Will had almost forgotten where he was and who he was with, and the applause broke his trance. He nearly staggered getting up to join Hannibal in giving a standing ovation, and Hannibal stabilized him with a hand under his elbow, before a look of concern washed over his face as he looked over Will. Will shook his head, ridding himself of his uneasiness and forced a smile. He mouthed “I’m fine” to Hannibal.

Back in the Bentley, Hannibal had not been placated. “Are you alright, Will?”

Will sighed. “Yes, yeah. I just got a little invested in it all.”

“I see,” Hannibal caressed Will’s cheek, covertly feeling for signs of fever, before weaving his fingers through Will’s hair for a moment. He seemed satisfied and removed them to start up the car. “It is an enticing tale, to be sure. I always much preferred the version told in the opera to the more classic version.”

“Why? Because Bluebeard lives?”

“Not exactly. In the original tale, Judith doesn’t believe the rumors at first, and it is simply her curiosity that urges her discovery. In Bartók’s version, we see that Judith is attracted to Bluebeard’s darkness, and she willingly enters his home, knowing full well what he may be. She asks him, _begs_ him to open all of his doors in order to prove his love. Judith has darkness, too, and Bluebeard sees her as the night.”

Will hummed, thinking about how different the night looked here in Baltimore with its artificial lights than in Wolf Trap. “Judith is more honest with herself in that version.”

Hannibal was silent for a moment, and despite the lights, the time of night meant that Will couldn’t read his face.

“Yes, she is.”

Will jumped slightly as Hannibal laid his hand on his thigh. He relaxed and took it into his own hand and weaved their fingers together, looking out the passenger side window to watch the increasing darkness roll by as they left the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of you guys don’t care when exactly I update, but for the people waiting for it on Sunday, this is to let you know that I won’t be updating next Sunday but the Monday immediately after instead. Hope y’all don’t mind! Thank you :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as always your comments on the last chapter meant so much to me :))


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst incoming. And Will says “fuck” a lot.

Hannibal served his guests Langue d'agneau en papillottes with a sauce of duxelles and oyster mushrooms in the dining room, and Will poured the wine, avoiding all eye contact except for Hannibal’s. Once finished, they sat down, Will to Hannibal’s right while Alana and Jack were seated to his left. Classical music played lightly in the background, solo piano music teetering between grave minor passages and twinkling mazurkas. Chopin, Will guessed.

Hannibal toasted to the company present and they dug into their food.

Jack hummed appreciatively around his morsel. “You’ve done it again, Hannibal. This is delicious. Thank you.”

“Be sure to thank Will, too. He was integral to this meal’s success,” Hannibal professed, giving a warm smile to Will.

Will’s cheeks reddened, remembering Hannibal pressed tightly against his back, showing him how to prepare the mushrooms, stopping only to pepper kisses into the divot behind his ear.

Jack and Alana exchanged puzzled looks for a moment before thanking Will in addition, and Will insisted the praise was all Hannibal’s. Lingering confusion at Will’s special role in the meal was forgotten when Hannibal inquired after Bella’s health, which was no better or worse than it had been a month prior. Then, they were reassured of Will’s improvement and how it felt to return to work, since his first week back at Quantico had just concluded.

They spoke of the slowly-approaching spring, the bits of work that weren’t morbid or confidential, and the inspirations behind Hannibal’s recipe. Eventually, the conversation hit a lull. Hannibal set down his fork and knife soundlessly and met Will’s anticipatory gaze. He lowered his hand delicately onto Will’s where it rested adjacent to his wine glass. Alana and Jack both followed the motion with their eyes and widened them when they reached where the hands met. Will blushed despite himself, unused to people in his own circle witnessing their affection.

“Jack, Alana,” Hannibal nodded to each slightly bewildered guest to his left. “Will and I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that we are seeing each other.”

They receive silent stares for a moment. Alana’s jaw actually dropped.

After a beat just a moment too long, Jack coughed and cleared his throat. He looked down to his plate for courage before saying, louder than necessary, “Congratulations… I believe are in order, then.”

He met Hannibal’s eyes after his words started coming out, smiling a little too widely. He glanced at Will and his eyes narrowed before he supplied him with a forced smile as well.

“Yes. Thank you, Jack.” Hannibal didn’t acknowledge Jack’s shock nor his artifice.

Will flashed Jack a bitter smile against his better judgment.

Then, it was once again silent, other than the faint music, missing even the dainty clinking of forks as they all got too invested in the conversation. The men turned to look at Alana, who had picked her jaw up off the table but was glaring at her plate.

“Congratulations?”

She raised her eyes to meet Will’s directly across from her. They were fiery, piercing through the bit of moisture gathered at the bottom.

“Am I to congratulate you two?” she continued.

Will had thought she wouldn’t still be so venomous towards him in front of both Jack and Hannibal, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. He scoffed, “Why not? That or something along those lines is typically how this goes.”

“Why- why not?!” she gasped out.

She turned her gaze to Hannibal and the fire was extinguished in her eyes, pain shot through in its stead. “What about us?”

Hannibal tensed, and Will felt his grip on his hand tighten minutely. 

“Us?” Will asked incredulously.

Alana kept her gaze on Hannibal. “What has all that been about, then? You just changed your mind about me?”

Will barked out “What is she talking about?” at the same time Hannibal used his mollifying tone of voice to say, “Alana, I-”

Hannibal paused, and inhaled deeply with shut eyes. When they opened he rubbed the back of Will’s hand with his fingertips in circles while returning his gaze to Alana.

“I still value your friendship, Alana, and I hope that your knowledge of my relationship with Will doesn’t change your regard for me.”

“Friendship?” she balked. “So you suddenly start bringing me lunch almost every day, invite me to dinner, brew beer for me, and we’re still just friends?”

Will withdrew his hand from underneath Hannibal’s, and Hannibal almost reached after it but tightened his jaw and let it go, disappearing under the table. Hannibal answered her, “Yes. I never intended you to believe I wanted more. I thought we had an understanding, and I’m sorry if my intentions were misconstrued.”

“Misconstrued! I thought you wanted to take things slow. I thought you were being _polite_!” Alana scoffed. “That night, when I tried to kiss you? You didn’t take me home just to be gentlemanly because I was drunk. You were rejecting me!”

“Well, yes. But, I took you home primarily because you were inebriated and not in control of your decisions,” he replied, curling his lip in distaste at her blundering revelation.

“If it’s because of him,” she glared at Will, “then you must be able to see how wrong that is. You’re his psychiatrist, Hannibal! You could lose your license!”

Will chimed in, anger dripping with every word, “He’s not my psychiatrist.” He scowled at Hannibal and then Alana.

“Even so,” she growled back, “You could get in trouble for this. This is unbelievable, Hannibal!”

“Will is correct. We have only been having conversations off the record; therefore, I have done nothing that could cause me to lose my license.” Hannibal kept his voice down in volume to balance out the yelling.

What was unbelievable to Hannibal was how rude Alana was being. He had been so certain that she would understand her own misinterpretation of their relationship and would react with grace with Jack present. Oh, how he loathed to be wrong.

Jack took the gap in arguing to interject, to no one in particular, keeping his gaze neutral, “I gather that this isn’t really my place, so I’ll be heading out. Thank you for the meal, both of you.”

The three remaining at the table let Jack go with no response, the rage between them no less palpable.

Alana took in a deep, steadying breath. “Even if you don’t get your license revoked, surely you can tell that a relationship with Will can’t be stable, at least not now. Don’t let his recovery trick you into thinking he is ready for one. He was more than just sick.”

Hannibal felt his control nearly slip. “That is incredibly rude, Alana. Will is no less capable of a relationship than you or I.”

“Am I? Really? Because if I couldn’t fucking tell you were dating someone else at the same time, then I must be pretty fucking clueless!” Will spat at Hannibal.

“I was never dating her, Will. I would never be unfaithful to you,” Hannibal’s dangerous gaze turned soft when looking at Will, desperately seeking his understanding.

“Like that even fucking matters. You _lied_ to me.”

Alana stole their attention away from each other. “Hold on, this isn’t recent?”

“It has been a couple of months now,” Hannibal explained. He turned to Will to beg, “Will, please let me explain.”

Before Will could answer, Alana laughed mirthlessly. “And here I was thinking Will manipulated you to take care of him. Were you just distracting me this whole time? God, you know what? Maybe you two deserve each other.”

She kicked back her chair to stand up and stormed out in a huff. Will watched her go and waited until the door slammed shut behind her. He channeled all of his rage into his grip on his thigh under the table and refused to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“What the actual fuck, Hannibal.”

“Will, I promise Alana has never meant anything to me. It wasn’t like that. The thought of you seeing someone else for therapy… made my blood boil. I was only trying to blind her to our relationship.”

“You blinded her so well she fell for you,” Will sneered. “You led her on.”

“You cannot blame me for her choice to interpret my efforts towards friendship in a romantic light.”

“Oh, yes I can. Yes, I fucking can when you were bringing her lunch every day, having dinner with her, brewing her _beer_ without telling me, actively hiding it, in fact. How do you not hear how fucked up that is?”

“That is nothing more than I would do for anyone I consider a friend. I regret that I failed to realize the extent of her attachment to me.”

Will glared straight ahead at the chair that occupied Alana, determined to keep the emotion out of his voice. “If you can play with Alana Bloom’s attachment, a friend and colleague you’ve known for ten times longer than you’ve known me, how am I supposed to believe you're not willing to play with mine?”

“I promise I have never lied about my feelings for you. I love you, Will.”

“Oh, please.” Will rolled his eyes, trying to ignore how the words stirred something in him.

“I couldn’t risk losing you. My intention was not to lead her on forever. I just wanted us to get to a good place. I wanted you to trust me,” Hannibal let the raw emotion into his voice and looked for any sign of a response to it in Will, who still refused to meet his gaze.

“Trust you?!” Will was riddled with disbelief, and he focused on that feeling to keep the burgeoning tears at bay. “At what point up until now did you think I didn’t trust you? You were- you’ve got to be kidding me. Listen, maybe you’re too fucking dense to get it, so let me lay it out for you. It’s not so much what you did, though that was incredibly bullheaded of you, too, but that you felt the need to hide it from me. It’s the _lies_ , Hannibal. So much for fucking trust.”

“I admit it was a poor decision not to tell you about it. I genuinely believed it was insignificant,” he tried to assure Will, leaning forward to try and reach his line of sight, “Please understand, you are all that occupies my thoughts when I am with you, as well as most of what does when I am not.”

“You’re a goddamn psychiatrist and you’re telling me it didn’t occur to you that honesty was important in a relationship? Jesus, Hannibal!”

Hannibal reached forward to try and grip Will’s arm, but Will flinched back. Hannibal reluctantly retreated. “I’m sorry, Will. I am not used to this. This… love, Will, is new to me. I am not used to sharing. Please, let me show you I can do better. I can be more open.”

“God, it was new to me, too, you bastard. I thought we _were_ being open. I don’t know what else there could possibly be. Tell me, is there more?”

“One could always argue there is more to be told, details left unsaid-”

“Fine, I’ll rephrase. Is there something else you’re deliberately keeping from me?” Will finally looked at Hannibal, daring him to answer.

Hannibal opened his mouth and closed it again and that was enough for Will. “I don’t want to know what else you’re hiding. It’s too late now.”

Will stood up, shoving his chair back just as violently as Alana did. “Goodbye, Hannibal.”

Hannibal hurried to stand as well, following Will who was making quick progress to the door. “Will, please wait. I will do anything to prove myself to you.”

Will just cast him a glare, and there was no warmth left, the ice cutting Hannibal down to the bone.

Hannibal felt a sob, foreign and rigid, creep up his throat as Will turned away and grasped the door handle. “I was going to ask to move in with you tonight…”

Will paused his turning of the handle and, without looking back, sighed exasperatedly. “Did you really expect this to go well?”

He whipped open the door and let it shut hard behind him.

* * *

Will woke up the next morning feeling just as terrible as the night before. Though he didn’t have any nightmares, it took him more than long enough to finally get some sleep, and he didn’t feel any better for it. Lately, there had been nights here and there where he had slept alone, but this one was different. Of course it fucking was.

He didn’t have the mental energy for people who would share their dark secrets with him only to lie about something insignificant. He definitely couldn’t _love_ someone like that. Even if he had once found it within reason to share his own secrets. Man, he regretted that now. Why he fooled himself into thinking he could love and be loved without consequence, Will didn’t know.

Just as he determined he wasn’t going to sulk about something that couldn’t be helped and got up to rouse the dogs, he got a call. He groaned. Not a single welcome caller came to mind.

Will begrudgingly picked his phone up off the bedside table to see it was Jack Crawford’s name lighting up the screen. He sighed and sat back down on his bed before accepting the call.

“Will Graham,” he answered with a grumble.

“Will,” Jack replied with the urgency most of his calls had, reflecting no thought of how they had last left off. “I need you.”

He sighed. “I just started working again, Jack. It’s been one week.”

Jack paused as if thinking that over. He inevitably decided it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, truly.

“It’s the Ripper.”

Will froze. _Great fucking timing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate your feedback and all of you just for reading!! Thanks!
> 
> Next chapter will be back on Sunday :)


	14. Chapter 14

Despite the chill in his bones, it was warm enough inside that Will took off his gloves and stored them in his coat pockets. Every so often the wind whistled against the floor-to-ceiling windows, which neared cathedral height. Frost obscured the view outside, but there wasn’t much to see as the church was surrounded on most sides by woods. The open air in the large space was eerily quiet, occupied only by the murmur of low voices, footsteps, and a slow drip, drip, drip.

The men and women dressed in winter FBI jackets slowly filed past Will in the center aisle, casting either curious or agitated glances that were easily ignored behind the shield of his glasses. Jack Crawford stood behind him, intending to be a reinforcing presence, but instead he just felt too large and looming to Will. When the doors behind them finally shut, exiling the officers to the snowy cold, Will exhaled slowly and walked forward.

He took off his glasses and shut his eyes, letting the pendulum swing. The evidence markers disappeared. Jack vanished from behind him. The faint voices from outside hushed.

The anatomical heart made of man stood alone at the altar, dripping blood and pounding its heartbeat in time with Will’s own.

He opened his eyes and walked around the corpse, calculating. He stood tall and walked with newfound grace. 

“I splintered every bone, fractured them... dynamically. Made you malleable. I skinned you. Bent you, twisted you, and trimmed you. Head, hands, arms, and legs. A topiary.”

The beating seemed to crescendo in its approval. The heart, the only other body in the room, somehow radiated warmth, and it reached out for him. “This is my design. A valentine written on a broken man.”

Will shivered and recoiled from the warmth, turning away from the sculpture. The cold returned him in a rush and he immediately saw Jack, ever reliable in his immovability.

“Tell me what you see, Will.”

Just half an hour prior, Will had arrived at the scene trying his best to focus on his anticipation, a welcome feeling compared to the dull ache that threatened him with every intake of breath. Of course, he had to school his excitement at seeing what hopefully would be a real Ripper scene in the flesh for the first time, something he had privately thought about for a while. It was still a crime scene, and it wouldn’t do to seem _excited_.

Like a punch to the gut, the feeling left him as soon as the church doors opened to the sight before him. 

He knew he had let on how the scene had been affecting him, but for all his experience reading behavior, something about Will defied analysis, so Jack never could tell what exactly had shaken him up.

Will answered, “Anguish. I see heartbreak, Jack.”

“Heartbreak,” Jack parroted.

“It’s… a valentine.” He paused, considering. “Find out about the victim. That’s where you should start.”

“You think the victim broke the Ripper’s heart?”

Will put his glasses back on. “I think somebody did.”

“The Ripper’s murders have never been emotional. Or if they were, they’ve never been about _his_ emotions. He’s a psychopath, Will. What makes you think this is his heart that’s broken?”

“If it was someone else’s heart that was broken, it implies the Ripper cares. So, either way, it’s going against your profile. I just took the Ripper’s ego into the equation. Makes it much more likely he’s lamenting his own broken heart.”

Jack slowly turned that over before disagreeing. “He’s still a psychopath. It seems performative to me.”

Will sighed and started towards the door. “I told you what I see. If you don’t like it, you can look for alternatives.”

He paused at the door. “Look into the victim.”

Jack called after him as he left, voice revealing displeasure at Will’s parting, “There’ll be another one! And soon.”

He didn’t respond to Jack or to the ache he felt at his own deception.

* * *

Per the Ripper’s usual pattern, the second one came just the next day. If the Ripper’s heart was broken, his sounder was obviously not affected by it.

The Ripper was less considerate of the weather for this one, displaying his victim in a park in Baltimore.

“His brain and heart are missing,” Beverly told Will.

The man was well-dressed, but clearly not equipped for the cold. His suit was not rumpled or disheveled, save for it being drenched with blood on the chest, betraying the missing heart. There was a stool discarded to the side, staged to look like it had been kicked by the victim. He held one end of a rope, the other end looped around a thick tree branch and tied in a noose around his neck.

“A little literal for the Ripper, don’t you think?” quipped Zeller.

Price agreed, “Heartless, brainless, and he hung himself. Or so we’re to believe. Metaphorically speaking.”

Will said nothing.

Jack came up behind him. “Michael Bedford.”

Will dipped his head towards him in a gesture to continue.

“The previous victim. Truck driver. We found his vehicle abandoned near a gas station. No forensic evidence. He was in the middle of a cross-country delivery.”

Will hummed.

“Still think the victim had something to do with the Ripper’s newfound emotions?”

“I don’t know what to think, Jack. I can only tell you what the evidence points to.”

Jack sighed and handed Will an evidence bag. “This is his wallet, this one’s. Found on the body in his pocket. Lars Christiansen. Initial reports so far show he’s a Baltimore resident. A book publisher.”

Will glanced at the ID photo in the wallet to be greeted by a handsome picture of the man in front of them, showing that he was a bit older than Will, with fair hair and skin. The authentic leather wallet matched the clean-cut look of the man in his casual business suit, and credit and membership cards peeked out from the folds.

Will passed the bag back to Jack, who called to everyone around them to clear the scene.

He waited until the crunch of snow under footsteps quieted, and then he let the pendulum swing.

“I chose you for the purpose you serve for me. You have not done anything to merit the punishment I give you, for the punishment is my own. I take your brain, for I have been mindless, and I take your heart, for mine, too, is gone. I help you to hang yourself just as I have hung myself. In death, you serve a higher purpose to me. This is my design.”

He returned to the moment and the scene before him in contemplation, standing immobile to delay the inevitable return of Jack to his side. The longer he stayed still, the longer he could gather his thoughts.

Finally, he breathed cold air into his lungs sharply, bodily. Jack predictably approached. Will kept staring at the victim, the pretence of studying the scene covering for his thoughts. He had already seen all there was to see before him, but the declaration required more rumination. Will empathized with the hole in Christiansen’s chest, where his heart had been. While not visible through the clothes, it was cavernous and empty, the blood the only evidence of the carnage done to him.

Will stated decisively, “This is more like the Ripper’s usual kills. This is judgment.”

Out of his peripheral, he saw Jack nod and the cloud of condensation with his exhale. “I think that much is pretty clear, but I’m not clear on what he’s judging him for.”

“Something he did, probably professionally, given he’s still wearing work clothes. He probably was taken from his place of work. The Ripper thinks he did something cruel and stupid, and that his actions led him to his own death sentence.”

Jack put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Good, Will. Maybe he rejected the Ripper’s book proposal.”

Will didn’t laugh, and Jack let his hand fall before clearing his throat. “What do you make of Bedford, then?”

“It could be related to this one, the cruel act. Heartbreak may have been overdramatic, but… the Ripper is overdramatic. Together they tell more of the full story.”

Something in Will’s voice struck Jack, then. The intonation on ‘heartbreak.’

“Will, look. I don’t know exactly what happened the other night,” Will winced and Jack ignored it, “but you can’t let it get in the way of this. The Ripper is killing _now_ , and he’ll slip by again for another year, maybe two, before he kills again if we don’t act on it.”

“I’m not letting anything get in the way of this. We are acting on it.” Will’s voice had gone cold.

“Don’t project onto the Ripper. You’re supposed to understand his motivations, not let your own get thrown into the mix.”

If Will responded he’d just sound defensive, so he said nothing. He stared straight ahead, finally looking up from the victim’s chest to his face, searching. It didn’t satisfy him.

“Keep thinking. I’ll send any updates we get and anything we learn about this one. Anything you think of that might help before tomorrow, before there’s another one, let me know. We’ve got everyone on call, so don’t hesitate if you think of something,” Jack directed at him, but he wasn’t listening. His mind had already walked back to his car, where his feet were just late in following at the dismissal.

* * *

He removed his glove to feel the bare skin of his knuckles against the cold door, punishingly hard. He made sure it felt, necessarily, like punching something, his own hand receiving the brunt of the force behind it, but it was too much to hope he’d bruise or start bleeding.

It was dark, but the streetlight did enough to illuminate the surprise, _artificial_ , he noted, that painted Hannibal’s face when he answered the door. They said nothing as the opening widened and Will let himself inside.

Will kept his coat on and they instinctively moved through the foyer into the dining room, where Hannibal paused, uncertain.

“Will-”

“Don’t speak.”

Will’s voice was calm but left no trace of doubt. Hannibal complied.

Will walked around the room to stand by the fireplace. Hannibal followed him with his eyes and waited as Will turned back around and drummed his fingers on the dining table. Hannibal watched the motion, which was not an idle one. Not anxious, but firm, biding his time. It gave the appearance of thinking, but Will’s mind was made up on what he was going to say, and Hannibal could tell. Finally, he spoke.

“The third one. You’re ready?”

Hannibal's mouth went dry and he opened it to reply, before he remembered Will’s command and nodded.

“Show me.”

Hannibal nodded again and turned to the kitchen. Will followed him as Hannibal walked to the pantry door and opened it with a key. Inside, Hannibal opened a cellar door and lit the descending staircase with the flick of a switch. As they walked down, Will suddenly remembered that perhaps he ought to be afraid, but he couldn’t summon the feeling.

They reached the bottom of the staircase, and Will didn’t look beyond the landing, not yet. Hannibal opened an armoire which held only tools, medical supplies, and a single garment on a hanger. He pulled the hanger off the rail, revealing that held a clear plastic jumpsuit. Will huffed a humorless laugh.

Hannibal granted him his eyes for the first time since the dining room. They were dark now, blown wider than Will had ever seen them, even with lust. He kept his gaze on Will as he slipped the jumpsuit off the hanger and stepped into it. Will felt unnerved being watched when it was supposed to be him doing the observing, but he had schooled his expression before he entered the house, facade impenetrable.

Hannibal zipped it up over his suit. He wore gloves, and his sleeves mostly covered them as well, so no skin was exposed until the collar reached his chin. There didn’t appear to be a hood, and Hannibal made no move to cover his hair. _Cocky_. He placed a few vials, syringes, and other supplies into a small bag and turned back to Will.

For a moment it seemed like he would say something, but he opted not to and turned to lead Will back out of the basement. There was little other nuance as they got in Hannibal’s Bentley like nothing was out of the ordinary and drove off.

Hannibal exuded the same quiet sense of power and confidence he always did, but Will thought he could sense something like fear, no, apprehension, and he didn’t think it was his own. They passed the Baltimore streets and unknowing citizens as Will started to recognize their path.

They passed the front of the medical center building before Hannibal drove around and parked in the back.

“This is where you took me. When I got diagnosed.”

Hannibal looked at Will and nodded, keeping his silence.

They waited for over an hour until a few people slowly started filing out of the rear of the building and walking to their cars. Nurses, Will thought, judging by their scrubs. He watched Hannibal watch them, looking for any detectable sign of recognition of his target. If it had been there, Will didn’t see it, and then Hannibal started his car. They followed another out of the lot from a discreet distance.

It led them to an apartment building and parked. The driver stepped out of his vehicle, and Hannibal, after quickly grabbing something out of his bag, crossed the distance of the parking lot sooner than the man could reach the entrance. In as efficient of a manner as Hannibal does all else, Will saw him plunge a syringe into his neck and half-walk, half-drag him back to the Bentley. Hannibal opened the back seat rather than the trunk, at which Will was amused, considering the Ripper’s opinion of his victims as pigs. Hannibal even buckled the man in. Then, he was back in the driver’s seat and they were off.

Will studied the man behind him, and the dull ache was back. He had usurped it with other feelings, but here it was back as he took note of the man-- _the victim_ \--he corrected himself, and his brown, curly hair and scruffy beard. If that wasn’t enough to convince him, the man clearly wasn’t one who got a lot of sleep, and his eyes, dazed, half-open, were cerulean blue.

Back at the house, Will didn’t help as Hannibal carried the man inside through the back entrance in Hannibal’s kitchen. He followed, thinking about the time Hannibal jokingly offered to explain his fitness regimen as Hannibal lifted the man, though slight was by all means full-grown, as if he were nothing. Again, he just watched as Hannibal leaned him against the wall long enough to get the pantry door open, then the cellar door.

They returned to the basement and this time Will allowed himself to explore as Hannibal busied himself with the contents of his bag and the armoire. There were several refrigerators, superfluous, knowing about two other ones upstairs, but necessary, Will supposed. Next to them there were machines clearly related to food and meat processing, and other devices whose purpose could either be explained as surgical or were curiosities to Will, who admittedly didn’t have the medical knowledge Hannibal did. But, his forensic knowledge of Ripper kills allowed him to connect some of the things he saw to the murders he remembered. There was a corner illuminated with the kind of artificial light you see in laboratories that housed an array of herbs and flowering plants, including an abundance of a red five-petal flower with an inner ring of darker red, bleeding towards the tips and the center of each flower.

He heard some grunts from the victim and he turned back to the main event. Hannibal had stripped the man and lifted him onto a surgical table. Will found a chair and passively watched his first heart surgery from start to finish, from watching Hannibal sanitize the surgical equipment, obviously for evidence’s sake more for the health of the man, to the storing of the victim’s heart in an air-tight sealed bag, then placed in a refrigerator. By the end, Will had knowingly watched him commit murder. Hannibal kept casting Will glances, clearly in his element, but appearing slightly uneasy the longer Will went without saying something.

* * *

A question was in Hannibal’s gaze as he looked at Will after putting away the equipment. Will stared back, expression still schooled to the indifferent. Having found something of an answer, Hannibal set about moving again, retrieving a mini-cooler and something else from the fridge, then, to Will’s surprise, a pallet of the red flowers from the corner.

Slowly everything, including the now-heartless man, still nude, was loaded back into the car. They drove out to a forest, more densely packed with trees than the park had been, and parked. Hannibal led Will, with the cooler and the plants, to a clearing quite a walk away, nestled between a patch of trees and a small stream. Will wandered around the area and watched for movement in the water, which rushed too quickly to be frozen over, as he waited for Hannibal to come back with the body.

Hannibal laid the victim down onto the snow. Will then watched as pushed away the snow in a broad circle and replanted the flowers at the top of the clearing, just in front of the trees. Will tried to remember if he had heard the weather broadcast for the early morning and next day, as it was nearly dawn and wasn’t snowing. Perhaps Hannibal was simply unbothered by their footprints and the evidence they left, as snowfall would cover the flowers of his tableau, but if they weren’t covered, then Will knew Jack and the forensic team would certainly see the two distinct sets of footprints as something of interest.

Once the flowers were in place, Hannibal positioned the body in the center, upright on his knees. He fussed with the victim’s hair, smoothing the head of curls just so, and he closed the victim’s eyes fully. Using a thin rope, he bound the hands together in an open position, then from the hands to a tree he tied the rope to lift the hands and arms to just above chest height in front of him. In the open hands, as if receiving an offering, Hannibal placed the item from the cooler in his hands.

Will stepped closer to observe the item, and identified another heart, though not the victim’s own. He almost snorted.

He looked at Hannibal. “That Christiansen’s?”

Hannibal dipped his head in response.

“Subtle,” Will chuckled. “And the flowers?”

“Sweet Williams,” Hannibal responded, sounding relieved at finally being granted permission to speak.

“ _Very_ subtle.”

If Hannibal wanted to say more, he didn’t push it. He let Will walk around the completed work as if it was art in a gallery. It was definitely more simple, rawer than his usual work, but it was clearly driven by passion, passion that seemed to manifest itself around the very air. Like the anatomical human heart had, it radiated warmth that combated the frigid Maryland winter, and this time, Will didn’t turn away from it. He let it reach him and welcomed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It kills me to not lay out all their thoughts and emotions in this chapter, but it had to be done. Thank you all so much for reading and for your lovely feedback <3 I can’t tell you how much it means to me that some of you have stayed with me this far!!
> 
> Something fun is when naming the victims for this chapter, I was doing research on Scandinavian names because I wanted the victim that represented Hannibal to be European but not Lithuanian like Hannibal, so I wanted to make him Scandinavian or Danish like Mads, and I learned that “Mads” is like the Scandinavian derivation of “Matthew” and the last name “Mikkelsen” basically means “son of Michael.” Just thought that was cool, since I didn’t know much about Scandinavian names before!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had some happy holidays if you celebrated! The year and this story are both coming to a close, and I’m so fucking excited!! Thanks for reading, and there will be some notes at the end!

“Go wait for me outside the clearing.”

Will did not turn to see surprise, skepticism, and reluctance flicker across Hannibal’s face before he inevitably complied and walked away from Will, leaving his work with the man it was meant for.

Finally alone and without worry of portraying anything on his features prematurely, Will sighed and let his whole body go lax. His mind had been working on overdrive for the past two days, and this has been his first chance to really understand what he was seeing, what he has already seen. No forensics officers fluttering about at the edge of his peripheral, impatient for him to get on with it, no Jack with eyes fixed to the back of his head until appearing next to him like he was magnetized, and no Hannibal carefully watching his reactions, uncharacteristic uncertainty pouring off of him in waves that unnerved Will almost as much as they did Hannibal.

Before him stood Hannibal’s final statement in the body of work devoted to Will. The first had been, quite literally, heart-wrenching, yet simple. Immediately after Will had left the failure of a dinner party, Hannibal had brutally unleashed his emotions on the victim, creating easily the most heavily mutilated and manipulated Ripper display. Amputated, skinned, broken, and bent into place, the Ripper-- no, Hannibal --showed him how it felt to be without him. The moment Will laid eyes on it, he knew. Though the heart was not his metaphorically, his own heart was broken just the same.

The second had been a confession of guilt, an admission of fault, and self-punishment wrapped up in one, showing astonishing remorse that Will wouldn’t have thought the Ripper capable of. Connecting the Ripper and Hannibal in his mind had been painfully easy, but here, he had to adapt his understanding of the two that had only recently become one in his mind. Hannibal, the lover and friend, was always intentional. Missteps were few and far between. Despite letting Will see him at his most vulnerable, in most circumstances he presented himself as impenetrable. The grace he carried himself with matched the elegance of the Ripper, and his ego, while less obvious than the Chesapeake Ripper’s, was undeniable. The Chesapeake Ripper often cast judgment and humiliation on others while revealing nothing about himself other than his own superiority to his victims, but with the second victim, the judgment and humiliation was all his own, the choice of victim purely coincidental. While only obvious to Will that the Ripper was admitting his own fault, it was clear even to Jack that something was causing the Ripper pain, or at the very least, anger, though Jack would not be able to tell the anger was directed towards himself.

Finally, there was this one. His magnum opus. Without using his empathy, Will knew this was a plea for forgiveness, a declaration of love, and an offering all in one. The heart in the victim’s hands was representative of Hannibal’s, and Will held all the power to do with it what he wished. Before he could even comprehend what that power entailed, much less what to do with it, he needed to fully understand every thought Hannibal had that went into this tableaux.

Standing just a foot outside of the ring of Sweet Williams, a couple of yards away from the substitute that knelt holding Hannibal’s metaphorical heart, Will shut his eyes.

The pendulum swung, but there was nothing left to wipe away except the time separating him from the moments before when Hannibal made his display.

Upon opening his eyes, Will replayed the steps he had seen Hannibal take to make this creation.

“I removed your heart, all but ripping it out,” he said, pacing around the circle. “I brought you here, somewhere beautiful. You deserve beauty.”

Will crouched to observe the flowers and pat down on the freshly-disturbed soil. “I surrounded you in flowers. A ring that serves as a celestial barrier between you and all that is cold and horrible. Life and beauty radiate off of you even in death.”

After standing back up, Will let his fingers glide along the rope connecting the victim’s hands to the tree, uplifting them. “In your hands, you hold my heart. It is all I can offer, and yet it is not enough to atone for my misdeeds. My love has no conditions, and I will accept whatever you decide to do with it. You are the center of my world.”

* * *

Midway between his parked car and the clearing where he had left Will and his most recent kill, Hannibal stood firmly planted, awaiting judgment, or execution, whatever it was Will had in store for him. He refused to allow his feet to pace uselessly back and forth. He had done all he could do for the moment and there was no use in restless movement or wild thought processes.

Eventually the crunch of snow underfoot sounded and Hannibal perked up towards it, awaiting the sight of Will, hoping his decision could be read somewhere along the lines of his face or the tension in his body. Instead, Will looked resolutely the same as he had before, hardened beyond his usual anxiousness. Will stopped a few feet away. He pleaded with Will with his eyes, and then Will pulled something like a grimace and stepped forward before grabbing Hannibal by the bicep and pulling him back towards the clearing.

Stunned, Hannibal’s efforts focused on _not tripping_ , because he absolutely would not be losing control of his balance, not now of all moments. They waded through the trees until they made way to the open space featuring the prostrated figure and his surrounding flowers, at the top of the small hill. They continued towards it and Will detoured to a nearby tree where Hannibal had left most of his tools.

Will grabbed the shovel that leaned against the tree and held it between his hands, calculating. “I want you to dig up the flowers and put them back on the pallet. Then, take them back to the car.”

He held the shovel out to Hannibal and the first spark of hope made its way through Hannibal’s veins. He took the shovel and swallowed his gratitude, deciding not to assume anything about Will’s intentions yet.

Will started to walk away from him. “I’m going to look for some wildflowers or something else we can replace them with. Unless you have other ideas?”

Short on other options and short on time, because they certainly couldn’t leave the scene and come back again, there wasn’t much else they could do with the disturbed earth. He shook his head.

Will nodded and headed towards the stream, where there was less snow and frozen earth. Hannibal proceeded to his task of digging up his freshly-planted flowers.

Slowly Hannibal had moved all of the flowers back into his car and replaced them with the assortment of wildflowers Will had found and extracted, mostly bloodroot and meadow cress. Once they had filled the ring again, it looked almost as intentional as it had with the blood-red flowers, and Hannibal was pleased with their collaboration.

“I suppose there’s not really anything we can do about our footprints, is there?”

“No,” Hannibal answered.

“Right, well. I’ll get rid of these shoes, and it’s not like either of us have a particularly abnormal shoe size.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement, both of them ignoring the more obvious problem that was posed by there being two distinct sets of footprints at the scene of a killer that always worked alone, because about that, too, there wasn’t much they could do.

They gathered everything that remained and returned it to the trunk of the car before getting in themselves. On the drive back to Baltimore, they remained silent. Once back, Hannibal fled to the basement to strip off the suit and fully clean himself while he left Will upstairs, a gesture of trust. Will took off and threw away the dirty gloves he had adorned and washed his hands and rubbed at the dirt on the knees of his pants, the soil the only real evidence of his being at the scene.

When Hannibal came back upstairs, he found Will in the study. He had arranged the chairs that usually sat side by side in front of the fireplace to face each other with several feet’s distance between them, an echo of their therapy. Far less personal than they had been in a long time. He sat with his legs crossed delicately. When Hannibal hesitated, Will gestured towards the other chair, and Hannibal keenly felt how the gesture mimicked his own to his patients towards the chair opposite his. He sat in the chair and crossed his legs as well, a veneer of calm he did not feel, so that he would not lean forward far too eagerly.

“I expect you have some things you’d like to say?”

Hannibal is flooded with both relief at the open opportunity to speak and overwhelmed by the lack of structure. Refusing to lose Will’s listening ear, he spoke. “First and foremost, Will, I want to apologize for lying to you. For Alana, I only have myself to blame. I am not accustomed to having regrets, but I will always regret that. My other omissions I would have eventually revealed to you, but you must understand why I didn’t outright? No, I won’t demand understanding from you. I have lost that privilege. I ask nothing of you, Will. I only want you to know how fully I am willing to offer myself and my fate to you.”

Will meditated on that. “You would let me call Jack, right now, if that’s what I wanted. You would let me kill you?”

“Yes,” Hannibal choked out.

The pregnant pause as Will continued to consider seemed to stretch on eternally, and all Hannibal could hear was the roaring of his own blood and his pulse, elevated like it never had been before.

“How long would it have taken you to tell me? How would you have done it?”

Hannibal sighed, “I didn’t want to hide it for much longer. I wanted to share it with you and share your home. I would have shown you, probably much like I did tonight.”

“You wanted me to-- expected --me to… accept it.”

“Yes.”

Will swallowed and asked the painful question that refused to leave his mind since he first made the connection. “Is that why you love me? Because you think I’m just as twisted as you?”

Hannibal winced as if he had been struck. “No, Will. I don’t love you because I think you’re like me. I have not fallen in love with a mirror image. You _complete_ me. You’re the only person I have ever met that has shown the potential to see me and fully understand what you are seeing. Before you, I had been content to be alone. It was the only way. But with you, I saw potential. Even with how promising that was, it is your radiance that made me love you. Everything about you commands my attention and I am more than happy to bestow it. You shine so brightly, and the way you do just for me is unlike any other pleasure. I could never resist the inevitable, my surrender to you, from the moment of our first meeting, as much as I wanted to.”

Hannibal had uncrossed his legs and leaned fully forward in his chair, reaching for Will as much as he was allowed, pure, raw want glimmering in honeyed eyes lit by the fire. Will had maintained eye contact the whole time and the pain and love was almost excruciating, and he felt it burning in his own chest.

Will looked down to gather his courage and voice back before returning the gaze and asking, “What do you want from me? Don’t say you don’t deserve anything. You don’t. Just, ideally. For you.”

“There are no ideals, Will. I could never predict you and I don’t want to. Whatever you want is what I want.”

“Stop. Just… if I wanted to… be with you. Join you. You would want that?” Will sounded almost afraid and Hannibal’s heart clenched, with an astounding show of empathy and with his own joy at the question.

“Yes, Will. I would be very happy with that,” Hannibal sobbed.

Will stood up, no longer able to look Hannibal in the eyes. He instead stood in front of the fire and stared into it, trying to ignore the feeling of Hannibal watching him.

As much as Will still ached with betrayal, his heart longed entirely for Hannibal. The love hadn’t gone anywhere. It was just damaged, and his understanding of Hannibal and his absurdly protective motives were explained by his understanding of the Chesapeake Ripper. The promise of being understood by Hannibal fully, to not have to hide his darkest fascinations and inclinations, to get to _indulge_ them with the man he loved seemed too good to be true, but it was all that his senses had been screaming at him for the past several days.

Maybe Will actually had a chance to have something he wanted in this life. Not something good, because he was not good. Something he fully deserved.

He turned around to face Hannibal again, tears threatening to spill over. At the sight of them, Hannibal’s mouth dropped open and he rose to his feet and closed the distance between them as quickly as his body allowed.

“Will? Talk to me.”

Will shuddered and grasped Hannibal’s arm before lowering his head onto his chest. “What you showed me… you, us… it’s beautiful.”

Hannibal gasped and his chest heaved against Will’s head. He nuzzled against Will’s curls back and fumbled wildly for purchase on his back, angling his body as close as they could get. He held Will and Will held Hannibal as tears began to spring loose.

Will finally relaxed into the embrace, accepting that he deserved this man and that this man deserved him. But, he had a contingency.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “We have to let the Ripper die.”

Hannibal tensed. “Of course, Will.”

“I want to start anew. Make something that is _our_ design. Can you arrange for that?”

Hannibal sighed his relief and clutched harder onto Will’s back. “Yes. Thank you.”

Will felt himself smile. He slowly extracted himself from Hannibal’s grasp, instead grabbing Hannibal’s hand.

“Come with me.”

Hannibal followed, more than led through his own house by Will’s hand. He hadn’t realized how desperately he had missed Will’s touch, missing it for only a few days, but now that he had it, he sought to minimize time without it as much as possible.

His anticipation mounted as they climbed the stairs to the second story, where there were only bedrooms. Will had not been there with him before, but of course he had deduced where his bedroom was. To hope for anything other than rest with Will was, once more, too much to ask, and unlikely, Hannibal thought. He supposed Will must have been, like him, awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

But, when Will opened the door to Hannibal’s bedroom and stared intently at the bed, large and imposing in the center of the room, Hannibal could feel the familiar tension rising between them. The pulse in Will’s thumb jumped.

Will let go of Hannibal’s hand. He looked from the bed to Hannibal again, gaze determined. “I want you to offer yourself to me. Again.”

The breath Hannibal released was dangerously close to a moan already.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Will,” Hannibal breathed.

He left Will standing by the door and walked backwards towards the bed, never losing eye contact. When close to it, he unbuttoned his jacket and then his shirt, at a pace which he hoped would seem neither too teasing or too eager. Will’s eyes raked over every inch of revealed flesh as if he had never seen it before. By the time Hannibal had stripped to his boxers, he was fully hard just watching Will’s hungry gaze look over him. To feel so desired felt undeserved, but he was not about to deny Will. He finally pulled the waistband down and over his cock before sliding his boxers all the way off.

When he straightened again, he heard the hitch of Will’s breath and smelled his sharp arousal. He felt his ego was justified if only for how Will looked at him like that every time he got naked.

When Will still made no move to do anything, Hannibal climbed on the bed, laid back, and angled himself so that he could still watch Will, see him take in all he had to offer. He spread his legs, knees bent, wide outside of his hips and elevated his head and chest under a pillow before reaching for the bedside table drawer, grabbing a glass jar of lube. His line of sight went straight over his chest, stomach, cock, all the way across the room where Will was starting to step towards the edge of the bed. Hannibal could just make out the line of his hard cock straining against the dark fabric of his pants and the sight of it, remembering how it looked, tasted, and felt made him moan.

Hannibal impatiently unscrewed the top of the jar and quickly slicked his hand before grasping his cock and giving it a few slow tugs.

“That’s more for you than it is for me, don’t you think?” Will growled. “Don’t touch yourself unless I say so.”

Hannibal released himself with a whimper.

“I told you to _offer_ yourself to me, Hannibal. Do you need me to explain it to you?” Will had taken on a condescending tone of voice he’d never used on Hannibal before, and Hannibal found himself surprisingly eager to please Will, to prove himself.

“No, Will. I understand.”

“Good. Continue.”

Hannibal trailed his slicked hand down his perineum until he reached his hole, and he circled it until it was tantalizingly slick, more for Will’s sake than his. He sighed at his own touch and felt the muscles relax enough to push the tip of his finger in. Only when he did did he realize his eyes had shut, and with the sensation they flew open, welcomed by the sight of Will much closer than he last was, pupils obscuring the blue in his eyes and mouth slick and ravenous.

“Oh God, Will,” Hannibal moaned at the sight of him between his legs as he started to finger himself open.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Will demanded.

“ _Yes_ , Will. I am yours. You have me entirely and I would do anything for you.” He started to pump his finger down to the knuckle, and then suddenly one wasn’t enough and he pushed a second in and watched Will’s eyes widen with rapt fascination as he scissored and stretched the tight hole.

“You’re such a _slut_ , Hannibal. The Chesapeake Ripper is willing to risk everything for my cock, isn’t that right?” Will said as he gripped his erection demonstrably, before starting to palm it through his pants. The sight of Hannibal opening himself, cock aching for him was exactly what Will needed from him.

“Yes, Will, _please_ ,” Hannibal begged. “I’m ready for you, don’t need another one, take me, _please_.”

Will groaned and unzipped his pants before pushing them down with his boxers. “Lube,” he barked.

They had agreed to stop using condoms a long while ago, both having confirmed they were safe and more than certain of their exclusivity. The promise of lube on Will’s cock just meant he’d be inside Hannibal as soon as possible. Hannibal quickly offered him the jar with an extended hand before Will crawled on the bed between his legs and slapped the back of his thigh, where it met his ass. “You’ve got two hands. Do it yourself.”

Hannibal whimpered and leaned forward, careful to keep his fingers inside himself and gathered enough lube on his other hand to lather along Will’s cock. He groaned at the heavy feel of it in his hand and unthinkingly tugged it towards his entrance.

“Hey!” Will slapped him again, harder.

“I’m sorry, Will, please, I just want you,” Hannibal whined.

“If you want me, you’re going to have to stop being a selfish asshole, got it?”

“Yes, Will. I promise I’ll be good,” Hannibal dropped back down onto his back, throwing his forearm over his eyes, and waited for whatever Will chose to give him. Because he was not told to stop, he kept the two fingers pumping and stretching inside him.

He felt the bed shift and expected Will to move his fingers, but instead, he gasped as Will’s tongue joined the wetness and circled around him before joining the fingers inside.

“Oh, Will!”

Will pressed his tongue in and out and then massaged along the outside of the rim, tasting every inch of the beautiful skin he’d been unable to take his eyes off of. Now that he allowed himself to have it and it was within his reach, he was salivating for Hannibal’s taste even as he was being sated with it. His hands grasped Hannibal’s ass and spread it wider, kneading the flesh before one massaged where he had hit Hannibal in apology.

Hannibal felt all control slip loose, and where he thought he had fully surrendered before, he now realized he hadn’t, muscles and tension held in his thighs, stomach, and neck released and he could only ragdoll and allow Will’s attack. His mind was blissfully blank other than a string of “Will, Will, Will,” and react to the raw sensations. Will’s worship of his hole and rim seemed to go on entirely too long, and the teasing was its own form of torture, but he deserved it, of course he did.

Will finally extracted himself. “Good, so good, Hannibal.”

Hannibal removed his arm from his eyes and preened at the praise. Will caught himself smiling down at him and couldn’t resist leaning over him to finally kiss him. As soon as Hannibal realized he had Will’s lips again, at long last, he opened his mouth to him, and as Will aggressively pursued his tongue, he moaned at the taste of himself on Will’s tongue. There was no room for air in the kiss and Will chased out hope of gasping for it. After exploring every surface inside, Will was content to massage and bite at Hannibal’s lips, savoring every gasp and moan it earned him. He had sorely missed the sound of Hannibal’s pleasure, but this time it was more wanton than ever.

Suddenly, Will’s mouth was gone, and Hannibal opened his eyes to see Will hovering over him, gaze pointed down at their hips. He realized with hardly a second’s warning before Will was inside him. He cried out with pleasure and Will’s gaze was back, this time full of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Hannibal, you’re so tight for me.”

Hannibal could just moan in response, complex thoughts that could normally form words lost completely. Will started to move, and his pace was relentless, jostling Hannibal helplessly forward and back, his hands and legs quickly wrapped around Will’s back in a death grip, the only hold he had.

Will chased after the pleasantly obscene sound of their skin slapping together when he bottomed out and let loose on Hannibal’s neck, uncaring of any complaints that may be had. He left mark after mark, thoroughly and irreparably claiming Hannibal.

“You’re _mine_ , Hannibal,” he growled. “My fucking monster.”

Hannibal nodded frantically and moaned, “Yes!”

Will carved a home for himself inside of Hannibal, who welcomed him with an unrelenting embrace and complete openness. When Will felt himself getting close, he used his hands on Hannibal’s ass to lift his hips up, managing to hit his prostate every time, eliciting extraordinarily high and breathy moans from Hannibal, whose cock lay pressed between them, leaking onto both of their stomachs. Will swallowed the last of those moans by taking Hannibal in another forceful kiss, more of a rough press than anything with tact and skill like before.

Finally, the hot, tight, heat of Hannibal sent Will over the edge and he came with a cry into Hannibal’s mouth. He kept pushing, milking himself with the pulsing muscle, and then grunted into the kiss, “I love you, Hannibal.”

The confirmation that he still had Will’s heart was more than enough to push Hannibal over, too. Surprise and relief flooded straight to his cock, untouched except by the friction between their stomachs, and it spilled, gushing out in time with the brushes of Will against his prostate, which were gradually slowing down. Hannibal clung to Will through it, his nails breaking skin easily and dragging unique trails down his back, before his cock emptied and softened.

Will’s movements slowed to a stop, before he pulled out, his spill slowly releasing and causing a sticky mess they both ignored between Hannibal’s thighs. They panted, breaths inches apart from each other, chests heaving together. Will opened his eyes to see a blissed-out Hannibal staring back at him, once again with tears in his eyes. Will leaned down to kiss at Hannibal’s eyelids, and a sob choked out of Hannibal’s throat.

“I love you, too, Will. Always. You know that.”

Will kissed his cheek and smiled against it, before saying, “Yes, I do.”

Hannibal let Will cover him in kisses before pushing Will onto his back and delivering his fair share, every one of them a promise and an apology, despite the forgiveness already given, unspoken, in Will’s love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is later in the day! Got very busy with Christmas and all that, and I thought I knew exactly how I wanted this chapter to go, but I was wrong and had to start all over! I hope you’re happy with how it went and we have just one more chapter of this story!!! I can’t believe it. We also hit over 50k words and I’m speechless. I’ve never written that much EVER and if you had told me even in like August this year that I would write that much this year I would have laughed in your face. I can’t believe I’ve managed it with music school being insane as ever honestly, but I’m super proud!!
> 
> After the next chapter, there will be an epilogue in a few parts that will be posted as a separate fic. The reasoning for this is because the epilogue will have different archive warnings and tags, and I want people to be able to finish this story satisfied without having to read the epilogue if they don’t want to. I’ll explain more of what I mean in the author’s notes of the epilogue when I post it.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for your support reading and commenting. It has been all that is helping me get through writing this beast (not that it’s super long or anything, but I’ve never worked on a project or anything this intense while being in school at the same time). I don’t share this with anyone irl so having you guys share your thoughts has been amazing! <3


	16. Chapter 16

Even though he needs much less sleep than the average person, and even though they were both covered in ejaculate that didn’t take very long to get uncomfortable, Hannibal didn’t dare move once Will had settled against him and quickly fallen asleep. Because even though it had realistically only been a few nights since he last had this, he feared he had ruined it forever. To have Will again, sated and trusting in his arms, was more happiness than he thought would ever again be within expectation. So, he watched Will sleep, how his exhales traversed across Hannibal’s chest, how his eyes started to dart under eyelids once he started his sorely-needed REM cycle, and the occasional twitch of his leg that would have been a wild kick if he had not been caged in by Hannibal, who knew all too well what a restless bedmate Will was if he was not lovingly restrained. He slept for a few hours, and woke, still holding Will, and watched him some more before the man finally woke.

Will stirred against Hannibal’s chest before finally opening his eyes and smiling softly at the sight and feel of Hannibal beneath him, relishing the warm skin that was smoother and more muscular than his own. He stretched his spine like a cat and moved to wind his fingers into Hannibal’s chest, signalling that he was awake.

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal’s voice rumbled in his chest, the familiar morning roughness of it causing Will to press his ear down, seeking more.

“Mm,” Will responded.

The non-response was pretty typical of Will, who took a lot longer to get accustomed to the idea of being awake than Hannibal did, and Hannibal smiled at him as Will raised his head to meet eyes.

“You look lovely. Well-rested.”

Will chuckled. “Thanks. You look exactly the same, of course.”

Hannibal kissed the top of his head and Will buried his face back into Hannibal’s chest, unreasonably embarrassed by Hannibal’s understanding that that was his version of a compliment.

Hannibal absently stroked circles across Will’s back with his fingertips in the way he knew Will liked as he spoke again, determined to have the pillow talk he didn’t push for last night. “As grateful as I am for the way things transpired last night, I’m very anxious to know a little more about what your thought process was. I must admit, the end product is much more than I thought I could have hoped for.”

Will took that as his sign to sit up, groaning a bit at his locked bones as he did so, and turned to face Hannibal, who followed him to lean back against the headboard.

“I’m not sure it’s so simple to explain. I think when I saw the first one, the valentine, I knew what I was going to do. It hit me that it was you, and from then on it was just inevitable. We had already become conjoined. Our separation was only temporary, so I just had to convince myself of what I was seeing.”

“It was easy for you to recognize that it was me? To put the two together?”

“Yes. If you had been active before, I probably would have seen it sooner,” Will explained.

“Surely, then, you have deduced…”

“What? That you’re the Copycat Killer, too? That we’ve been eating them? Yeah. You literally told me once, that you had transferred your passion for anatomy into cooking. I just didn’t know how literally you meant it.”

Hannibal hummed. “And you’re not upset about it? What I do?”

“Not as much as I should be,” Will laughed. “Honestly, one of the first things I felt was relief. Relief that I could tell you… how much I admired your work.”

Hannibal nearly lost his breath and beamed at Will, clutching him closer to portray his profound disbelief in ways that words couldn’t. His sigh of “Oh, Will,” seemed to do the trick, though, as Will allowed himself to melt into the embrace.

His Will was even more magnificent than he could have dreamed. He knew of the desires and inclinations Will kept just at bay, and knew how compatible they could be if Will could just admit it to himself, but to know that Will had secretly harbored admiration for the Chesapeake Ripper all the while was beyond flattering, and meant Will was possibly even more inclined towards his lifestyle than he expected. All it took was a push in that direction, from someone he trusted and loved, and Will was ready to indulge himself, it seemed.

Will sighed against Hannibal’s neck and kissed it once. “I had never considered the possibility of letting myself be… of being able to be not normal, but happy? But with your confession, the love letters, I imagined it. I want it. With you.”

Hannibal ached with the love he felt for the man-- the killer --in his arms. He kept his hold tight, but pulled back to look into Will’s eyes, which looked beautifully relaxed and unburdened. “And you shall have it. I have dreamed of seeing you admit what you want to yourself, firstly, and to me. I can’t wait to see you, and your Radiance, Will.”

“I can’t imagine it’ll be quite so… organized as you are, especially at first,” Will murmured, apologetic.

Hannibal soothed him with a cupped hand to his cheek, which was met with nuzzling and wide eyes awaiting the response. “It will be beautiful, Will. We are identically different, and your Becoming will reflect that. Our collaborations will take meaning just for us, but will be remembered and admired for much longer than the Chesapeake Ripper.”

It was just the reassurance Will needed, for Hannibal was not an expert at interpersonal relationships, but was an expert, the only one, in fact, at understanding Will Graham.

Before Will could express his gratitude, his phone, which was annoyingly still alive despite being discarded and ignored along with his pants at the side of the bed, rang. He groaned and rolled off the bed to pick it up, knowing full well who it must be. He had expected the tableaux’s discovery to be later in the day, but Jack must have had people actively looking for it, or else they just got unlucky.

“Hi, Jack,” he grumbled with excessive roughness to portray his grumpiness at being disturbed in the AM again.

“We found the third one. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Jack snapped, “Will, our window is closing, and fast. I need you here. You don’t have to be happy about it, but that’s how it is.”

“I know, Jack, just tell me where to go.”

Jack, sounding less than satisfied with Will’s apathetic tone, ended the call after telling him where to find the final victim of the sounder, what would end up being the Ripper’s final known victim.

Will looked at Hannibal who was still reclined on the bed. He looked much too smug. “Duty calls?”

Will smiled, putting on an air of exasperation. “And I suppose you’re just going to lounge around here, free as a bird and now with me on your side? How about you start working on finishing up the Ripper for us?”

Hannibal smiled. “I will do just that, after breakfast of course. I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay long enough?”

“Hmm… Jack _does_ think I’m coming from Wolf Trap…” Will grinned, eager and hungry at the thought of Hannibal’s cooking again after subsisting on mostly nothing for a few days.

The answer pleased Hannibal, who got up and dragged Will to the shower so he could redress himself in a robe and house clothes without dirtying them. From the shower to the kitchen, Hannibal explained to Will that he always maintained some contingency plans, including Jack’s trainee, Miriam Lass, harvested evidence from all of his victims, and detailed profiles on other suitable candidates that could serve as scapegoats, as well as information on their whereabouts on nights he took victims, so that there would be no alibis should he choose to frame someone else. But, most of these options were just barely laid-out, enough that he could quickly leave if something ever arose, so he would have to do proper research to legitimately frame someone, as that was what he saw as the best conclusion to the story of the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal did feel some sense of regret to have this identity he had had for so long robbed of him, but it was a small price to pay to live in greater happiness than he could have imagined with his Will.

Hannibal coached Will on what to say about the final tableaux to lead the investigation in the ideal direction. Over breakfast, they decided together on the perfect man to frame: Dr. Donald Sutcliffe. Perfect, because as a member of elite Baltimore society, medical doctor and surgeon, and having distant but identifiable connections to enough of the victims, he would fit the profile of the Chesapeake Ripper extraordinarily well. That he disrespected Will and their relationship was just an added bonus, pushing him ahead of the other candidates.

Hannibal outdid himself with breakfast, apologizing still, and Will didn’t think he would mind if Hannibal continued to make it up to him if the food was always going to be _so_ good. Afterwards, Will wistfully left Hannibal with a lingering kiss, and retraced their drive out to the tableaux, disregarding the unnecessary directions sent to him by Jack.

At the scene, Will expertly acted as if he was not bored, not wishing he could just leave and go back to the murderer who had left this scene here, this scene which was a love letter to _him_ of all people. He felt no sense of remorse for the victim, who he came to learn was named Andrew Lindsey, identified by a very distraught FBI officer who happened to recognize Will’s lookalike. Lindsey was just a means to an end, and it helped the story they would weave enormously that he was a nurse at Sutcliffe’s hospital. Jack listened intently as Will fed him lies, and he was eventually let go, after promising to come to the lab later in the day to get briefings on Lindsey, as well as what they discovered postmortem about Christiansen, the publisher, and Bedford, the truck driver.

By the time Will got to his house-- the dogs could only go so long without seeing him instead of the neighbor --Hannibal had anticipated his move and awaited him with the pack in the front yard. Will grinned and got out to greet his family.

“I’ve been to Dr. Sutcliffe’s house. It should be ready for whenever the FBI decides to pay a visit.”

“What about Lass?” Will asked casually as he bent down to receive the onslaught of doggy love.

“She is not ready to resurface just yet. I will have to spend some time preparing her to correctly identify Dr. Sutcliffe and then find somewhere suitable for her to be found.”

Will nodded, expecting this. Miriam Lass would be the final nail in the coffin during Sutcliffe’s trial, if they timed it right. They went inside and Will made sure the dogs were adequately fed before he showed Hannibal the upstairs rooms. Hannibal determined the two bedrooms to be suitable for themselves, and one for Abigail if and when she chose to stay with them. There was also a room Hannibal courteously offered to turn into an office for Will, but Will declined, telling him it was perfect for a study, a great place to keep all of the things Hannibal is attached to that would be too ostentatious for the living room downstairs. Will pretended to be annoyed by the manhandling and kissing that earned him.

Then, venturing outside, there was a plot Hannibal deemed worthy of an herb garden, given Will allowed him to put up a fence and gate to keep the dogs from getting into it. Of course, Will was ready to allow Hannibal anything to make this their home. Next, he showed Hannibal the barn, empty for the most part other than some fishing poles, farm equipment that remained from when he bought the house, and a spare freezer he never used. Hannibal walked and surveyed the front, the back, and then the middle, observing the beams and windows. He decided it was structurally sound enough to install some renovations, including heating and air conditioning, to make it a suitable work space. Hannibal would have to get rid of most of the contents of his basement before he sold his house, but there was enough room to keep some of them here.

Hannibal made and fed Will another extravagant meal before he left for the lab. Price and Zeller explained to Will that the heart in Lindsey’s hands was Christiansen’s, rather than his own, and Will was able to tell them that the killer probably loved Lindsey, or thought that he did, and that Christiansen was the standin for the Ripper. The next step was simple, and the FBI looked for people connected to Lindsey, including employees at Sutcliffe’s hospital.

It wasn’t too long before they discovered a few of the Ripper’s victims had been former patients of one Dr. Donald Sutcliffe, and as soon as the warrant to search the doctor’s house yielded evidence from nearly all victims of the Chesapeake Ripper, the victims that had no discernible connection were simply explained away, as having no evidence Sutcliffe had met the other victims didn’t mean it was impossible that he had met them.

Sutcliffe was quickly apprehended and denied all claims. The tabloids, including one very excited TattleCrime.com, went berserk and called Sutcliffe’s trial “the trial of a century,” and spun stories about how a psychopath’s love was the only thing that ended up getting him caught. As soon as Miriam Lass was rediscovered and positively identified Sutcliffe as her captor, the verdict was all but set in stone.

Will gave testimony at the trial and Sutcliffe was sentenced to life in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where Frederick Chilton questioned him endlessly, and despite little results other than Sutcliffe’s continued denial of his guilt, Chilton sold hundreds of thousands of copies of his book on the psychology of the “rare form of love” such a killer could have. Hannibal quietly sold his house and much of the decor that he was never really attached to, as it mostly served as a facade that was no longer necessary now that his relationship with Will disguised their actions much more convincingly.

When Hannibal moved in, they got a new, real bed for the upstairs master and upgraded the kitchen. They turned the second bedroom into a tasteful guest bedroom, though they always referred to it as “Abigail’s room,” even before they invited her to stay with them. When they did, she was so ecstatic she tackled them into a hug, and Will laughed at the weird surprised grunt Hannibal made so long afterward that Hannibal’s irritation _almost_ overpowered his joy.

They got Abigail a car so she could be as free as she liked, and she adjusted to life in Wolf Trap well, but quickly got bored with how little there was to do there. Hannibal spent dinners telling Abigail about the foreign cities he had been to and the universities abroad, hoping Will would also take interest and want to travel. Finally, Abigail decided she would study in Scotland, and while Hannibal was slightly disappointed she hadn’t chosen Italy or France, he knew she would be happy there and visiting would give him an excuse to convince Will to go with him to continental Europe, especially during the summers Will didn’t have to teach.

When Hannibal first suggested they spend time travelling after visiting Abigail, with a nonchalance Will easily saw through, Will laughed at how nervous Hannibal was, and Hannibal frowned at the initial reaction.

“You told me-- on our first date, mind you --all I had to do was ask and you’d take me to Florence. Now we _live_ together and you think you have to convince _me_?” Will affectionately brushed fingers over Hannibal’s hands.

“You haven’t asked.”

“Well, I’m asking now. Take me to Florence, hell, take me anywhere you want to go. Is three months enough to see it all?”

After that, Will was thoroughly kissed and had to consider that answer enough.

A few months after Sutcliffe was put away, they killed together for the first time. Will chose their victim, a man who had been particularly loud and obnoxious during one of their dates and that Will discovered to be involved in some pretty corrupt foster care programs and likely was a pedophile. The man had a high enough profile, as an heir to a giant meat-packing industry, that anyone, and plenty of known criminals, could be connected to the murder. Hannibal let Will take the lead for the most part, trusting his forensic expertise, and only volunteering his ideas for a display and helping Will set it up. When the man was hung up like a pig in one of his own butcher shops, they stood back and admired their work. Hannibal told Will the blood suited him and Will called him a sap.

They continued undiscovered, and Will satisfied himself and Jack by helping out on occasion, but he drew a line in the sand and slowly Jack only called Will for the weird ones, which tended to be his and Hannibal’s own work.

Will had to admit he might actually like opera, and even just classical music, so they went with Beverly and Isabella, who quickly took to one another, to one event or the other nearly every week. One day, Will remembered that Alana used to be among Hannibal’s usual company at dinner parties. He could only remember her bitterly at their last few interactions, but felt weirdly thankful for how her disdain for their relationship might have played a favorable role in the beginning due to Will’s spite.

“How come you never make me beer like you did for Alana?” Will asked once when they sat in front of the fireplace, peering down at his expensive whiskey. It was true he preferred whiskey, but he was not opposed to a beer every once and awhile.

“I admit that was more for my ego than anything else. Like the dinner parties. Though if you’d like me to prepare you a brew, I’d be more than happy to, my dear.”

“Your ego? You mean there were people in the beer?”

Hannibal smirked at his own cleverness. “Yes.”

Will laughed, a little too long. Hannibal didn’t mind though. He never minded the amusement Will found in Hannibal’s activities, as it was so pleasurable to share a sense of humor so thoroughly with someone. Plus, he got to observe how nicely the fire lit up Will’s face as it contorted with laughter.

“God, you’re an ass. You know that?”

Hannibal leaned over and kissed him. “Yes. I love you too, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND IT’S DONE!!! I really can’t believe it!! Thank you so so so much to everyone, whether you’ve been reading this with me for the past few months or if you just found it, whether you’ve commented or left any other mark, or if you’ve just been a silent reader. Every hit means so much to me and I appreciate all of you!
> 
> I will be writing an epilogue for this so here’s my little rant about that: It will be posted as a SEPARATE FIC, as a part two in a series with this one. It will contain Major Character Death (not Will or Hannibal). The reasoning is I want you to be able to be happy with the ending here if any other MCD isn’t your cup of tea, because I totally understand! Do not feel obligated to continue and read the epilogue if you are happy with how this ended or if you aren’t interested in potentially seeing your favorite character die. This is your warning!
> 
> But, of course, I will appreciate everyone that chooses to read the epilogue. It will include fluff, smut, and a little murder ;)
> 
> After that, I will be writing more fics, but I think I’ll want a little break to get ahead on a couple of projects as the last few chapters of this one have been stressful when combined with the holidays! 
> 
> I’ll probably be going back over this fic and editing little things and the Author’s Notes just to make sure I like the final product, so don’t mind me if you see that :)
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading, and I can’t tell you how nice this has been for me to interact with all of you! I’ve never been this involved with a fandom (or this obsessed with one) and it’s so nice to have people enjoy a ship the same way you do, so I can’t wait to write more of them, and I hope to see you there, too! Thanksss and Happy New Year <3


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